


Welcome to the I.V. League

by foggys_cupcake_girl



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Attempted Seduction, Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Credence Barebone, BAMF Tina Goldstein, Body Worship, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence is adorable af in the bedroom, Family Feels, First Love, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Graves is super soft for Credence and literally everyone knows, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marking, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Medical Procedures, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Percival Graves is a really good boyfriend, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Newt Scamander, Protective Original Percival Graves, Rape Recovery, Rimming, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Student Credence Barebone, Switching, Tender Sex, Therapy, Tina Goldstein has no chill, Topping from the Bottom, but also love at first sight, consent is sexy!!!, how the hell did Credence survive childhood, minor crossover with The Closer, sex education on the fly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 145,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys_cupcake_girl/pseuds/foggys_cupcake_girl
Summary: Credence Barebone is a nursing student who badly wants to break free of his old life, and learn to help people so he can give back to those who helped him. Falling in love wasn’t part of the plan…until he meets the dashing Dr. Graves.Percival Graves is a nurse practitioner who loves his patients, but can't move on from old regrets. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight…until he stumbles across a shy nursing student with beautiful eyes and a soul to match.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves, Original Percival Graves/Gellert Grindelwald (past), Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski (background), Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 190
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this forever ago, when I first started nursing school myself, as what can only be called a coping mechanism. I had absolutely zero intent of posting it, thinking no one would want to read my flangsty modern AU, until, in desperate need of comfort (if y'all are looking for a good time, I Do Not Recommend taking a fast-tracked nursing course during a pandemic) I came crawling back to fandom...aaaand what should I find but a THRIVING Gradence fandom and the very first fic I laid eyes on was a modern AU. So I figured, why the heck not.
> 
> And yes, the tags are correct, rape recovery is a plot point in this fic. It's in the past, it's not between the main pairing, and there will be no graphic depiction or description of the actual assault, but the discussion of it is there and the trauma/fallout of it is DEFINITELY there. Again, I'll do my best to make sure any time it comes up, there is an accurate trigger warning in the notes/tags.
> 
> TWs for this chapter: Discussions of past religious homophobia and conversion therapy, mentions of child abuse, vague reference to rape - none of it is graphic and it's all in summary, but it's there. Also, Credence has a mild anxiety attack on his first day of school when a teacher yells at him.

_It won’t be as scary as you think it’ll be._

That was what Credence told himself about seventy-five times on his way to his first clinical…or, more accurately, about seventy-five times before he’d gotten to the car. Before he could drive he had to steady himself with a few deep breaths. It was a misty, humid summer morning, but it wasn’t so hot yet that he needed the A/C in the car. He rolled down the window and slowly breathed in the fresh air. _It will be okay. You’re always afraid, and it’s always okay. Try to relax. You’ll do worse if you’re nervous, and you know it._

His hand drifted up almost of its own accord to touch the Ilvermorny patch sewn to the shoulder of his scrubs. It was silly, he knew, to care so much about that patch..but it was a badge of honor, a precious indication that, for as long as he was on the floor of the hospital with his fellow students, he was part of a team. His mother had never allowed him to join teams or clubs in school, and even when he had gone to the tiny, private college she’d insisted he attend to study the Bible, she still had refused him any extracurriculars. He had never been allowed to wear anything with logos, graphics or letters, and God have mercy on him if he wore anything with a sports team on it. “Sinful,” she had scoffed when he’d shyly asked if he might get some school pride wear from the college bookstore. “I wonder that they’d even allow it. Splashing signs all over your body that you belong to a ‘team’ or a ‘tribe’—you belong to _God_ , Credence, not that school, and don’t you ever forget it.”

That conversation, like so many others, had not ended well for him.

But now he wasn’t just _allowed_ to wear his school’s colors, every day he went to the hospital he _had_ to wear these rich red scrubs with the gold and powder-blue “ISON” embroidered on the pocket, the Ilvermorny School of Nursing patch on his shoulder, and the Ilvermorny logo on his badge pull. It was written all over him that he belonged to that school, to that team. And he would never, _ever_ take that for granted.

The drive was was fairly long, but on a Saturday morning at six AM it went by quickly; traffic was almost nonexistent. Credence liked the long drive anyway; it gave him some valuable time to himself, to listen to his favorite music and to think a little, get himself into a decent headspace before beginning what he knew would be a long, difficult day.

There were seven other students in Credence’s clinical group, most of them either EMTs or former military. As he entered the conference room where they would debrief Luna, the soft, kind-faced woman he’d sat next to during registration, smiled at him and moved her backpack so he could sit with her. On her other side was Harry and his friend Sirius, who had apparently known each other before the program. Across the conference table sat Cho, Neville and Draco, all of whom were former military, and Lavender, a civilian volunteer firefighter and the youngest of the group.

Dr. Lockhart, the clinical instructor, passed around a sheet. “Initial next to your assignment. Get out your pens and notepads, because we’re going to go get report. No, I don’t know who your nurse is going to be, you’ll have to check the assignment board. Your task today is to get me three sets of vitals, cue four hours. Chart your findings and stick to your nurse like a shadow. You kids got all that? Any questions? No? Good. Sign in and follow me.”

Already feeling lost, Credence tagged along with the others to the nurses’ station, which was already a whirl of chaos. He looked up to the nearest clock. 7:01. The first shift had _just_ clocked in and it was already chaos. The clamor of the meshing voices was overwhelming. The lights were so bright. Everyone was in different colored scrubs and Credence couldn’t see all of their name badges; he didn’t know who was a nurse and who was an aide. And he certainly didn’t know which one was _his_ nurse, the one he was supposed to follow.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, feeling lost, feeling absolutely useless, before a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped and turned around, looking directly into the face of his teacher, who looked…very annoyed. “Barebone,” he said irritably, “why aren’t you getting report? It’s 7:15! You should have found your nurse already!”

Credence looked desperately around again, trying to orient himself to the room. It had seemed so much smaller, he thought painfully, when he was there for orientation. There hadn’t been this much activity, it hadn’t been this _loud_ , he’d been able to at least hear himself think. Finally, desperately, he managed to lock in on the assignment board. He knew which patients he had, he could find their room numbers and thus find his nurse. “I’m sorry,” he heard himself say absently, even as his eyes scanned the board. _Granger, 3651._ That was the name next to his room numbers. Now he just had to find out who it was.

But Dr. Lockhart was touching him again, this time grabbing him all the way around the arm, trying to make Credence turn and face him, and suddenly Credence froze up even worse than before. _No_ , he wanted to say, _no, don’t, I don’t like it, let go please_. His heart sped up, his legs shook, vision blurred. He couldn’t _think_ —he was about to be hit—

“—and it looks very bad to just stand around like this. Is that clear?” Dr. Lockhart was demanding, and he wanted to answer, he _did_ , but— _is what clear? I don’t even know what he’s saying_ — _oh God don’t hit me_ —for a moment his mind whirled and all he could think about was getting away, and _why_ wouldn’t Dr. Lockhart just _let him go_ —

And then a new voice, much gentler and softer, floated onto the scene. “Don’t worry, Dr. Lockhart. I’ll see that he settles in.”

Dr. Lockhart finally let go, and Credence’s head cleared a little. His heart was still pounding, knees still trembling, fear and adrenaline receding entirely too slowly for him to really think clearly, but at least he could focus on the person who’d interrupted, a kind-faced thirty-something woman with thick, curly brown hair tied up in a messy knot. “My name is Hermione. As in, Granger,” she clarified with a smile, indicating the assignment board. “I take it you’re my student?”

Credence cleared his throat and, with a great effort, managed to not let his voice shake (not _too_ much) as he answered. “Yeah. Um. Credence. I’m…” He held out his student badge as evidence.

Hermione nodded and held up her own badge in reply. “I’m an RN, I’ve been here for eleven years. So believe me when I say, I know how you’re feeling right now. It’s a real mess doing report like this, isn’t it? Come on. I’ve already taken my report, so we’ll get right into vitals. With my first-day students I like to watch them in action, get a feel for where you are.”

Doing the vital signs under Hermione’s eagle-eyed watch was…nerve-wracking, to say the least. She was so confident, so _smart_. How, Credence wondered, could he _ever_ be that easy on the floor? She remembered the most minute details of the report she’d been given without checking her sheet. How did she _remember_ it all? After getting her patients' blood pressures and temperatures, she taught him how to log his findings in the computer, where he got his first praise of the day: “You’re good at this,” Hermione said after he’d entered all the data in record time. Credence fought the urge to giggle like a child. He’d been so afraid of messing things up, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might actually do well enough to draw praise from his nurse.

He was standing outside the crowded med room, waiting for Hermione to get the medication that they would hand out to her patients, when someone ran into him from the side. “Damn it,” a man’s voice grunted. “Sorry, mate. My fault. Should’ve seen you there.”

“It’s no…problem…” Credence barely had turned around when he was struck absolutely speechless. The man who had run into him was…there was no other word for it… _breathtakingly_ gorgeous. He was just about Credence’s height, with deep, lovely brown eyes, dark hair slicked back into a 40’s-esque pompadour (and _just_ enough gray in the temples to make him look dignified), and the softest-looking lips that Credence had ever seen. His clean-shaven face was heavy-browed, lined with age and care, but his features were soft and something about his face—stiff and unhappy-looking as it may have been—seemed to connote kindness.

And…oops. Credence really shouldn’t be staring at him. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammered, and took a quick step back, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from the man’s beautiful face. “I was in the way.”

“Kind of can’t help but be, can you? This place is cramped as all hell,” the man pointed out, and oh, oh no, that wasn’t _fair_ , because now Credence noticed definite traces of an Irish accent and it just made the man even more attractive in his mind. Credence looked up just in time to see the man’s eyes drift over him, taking in his scrubs. “So, Ilvermorny, eh? They’ll put you through the wringer there. Went through it myself, actually.” The handsome doctor (he _must_ be a doctor; he was in a white lab coat over a crisp shirt and tie instead of scrubs) held up his own logo-stamped badge pull as evidence…but of course, Credence’s luck being what it was, the badge was flipped to the back, so he couldn’t see the man’s name.

Credence made a nice, noncommittal noise and looked helplessly around for his nurse. How long could it possibly take Hermione to check out a handful of pills? Didn’t she know how dangerous it was out here, with attractive doctors popping out of the woodwork like horror movie monsters? And oh lord, the man smelled so good, like coffee and cinnamon, and that just wasn’t fair, to expect Credence to cope with that handsome face _and_ a beautiful Irish accent _and_ that outrageously seductive scent, all at once.

The unfairly-hot man wasn’t done talking to him yet, it seemed. “So, tell me then,” he said, as if he weren’t better than Credence in every possible way and had all the reason in the world to talk to him, “are you regular or accelerated?”

Credence made an odd croaking sound that earned him a concerned look from Dr. Handsome, briefly died of embarrassment, came back to life, cleared his throat, and said in a more human voice, “Uh. Accelerated. This is my first full semester.”

Dr. Handsome let out a low whistle. “Brave lad,” he said with an impressed nod, and Credence felt himself blush from head to toe at having _impressed_ the _incredibly sexy doctor_. “I did the traditional program myself. Don't think I'd have made it through the quick one. What is it, eighteen months?”

“Sixteen. Four semesters,” Credence corrected him automatically, and then the man’s words hit him. _I did the traditional program._ Did that mean… “You’re a nurse?” Credence blurted out in surprise.

“Sure am. Doctorate nurse practitioner,” the man confirmed. So Credence had technically been right; the man _was_ a doctor, just not an MD. “Got all three of my degrees at your school, too. Right up to the DNP. Do yourself a favor if you go to grad school, and quit while you’re ahead. A master’s degree would’ve served me just as well. There you go, that’s lesson number one.”

“Okay,” Credence answered, a little faintly; at that moment he really thought the man could’ve told him _all right kid, I want you to go shave your head, pierce your nipples, and go live in the woods where they filmed Blair Witch Project_ , and he probably would have done it without question.

The man looked at his watch and cursed under his breath. “I’m supposed to be…ah, damn, they won’t like that…” He nodded to Credence. “It was nice to meet you, but I’ve got to go. But I’m always on this floor. You need advice or help or anything…” He tensed suddenly, and seemed to remember something; a shadow passed over his lovely face, and all at once he seemed desperately sad. “Well. Anyhow, I’ll see you around, all right?” he finished, and marched off in a swirl of lab coats and seductive cologne.

Credence was still standing there, utterly dizzy and unmoored, when Hermione returned with her medications. “And off we go,” she announced, and Credence had to tag along after her. Soon he (almost) managed to forget the man, because Hermione kept him very busy right up to lunchtime. She was exacting but fair, and tended to praise Credence for getting things rather than scold him for getting things wrong. She let him watch in silence as she administered medications to her first two patients, then made him talk her through the process for the next two. And when she told him “You’re doing really well you know, not just for your first day either, really well for anyone,” he found that he almost believed her.

By the time Luna came to get him for lunch, Credence had managed to shake the worst of his nerves, and he didn’t want to leave the floor, even though he probably should have been more than ready to eat. The students’ lunch period, it turned out, was to last an hour every day. That felt like pure torture for Credence, who was used to rushed breaks at his nursing home job and had finished his food in less than fifteen minutes. It didn’t help that Dr. Lockhart monopolized the conversation under the guise of telling them “helpful stories.” He specialized in cardiac medicine, and he loved to talk about all the times he had heroically saved a patient from a horrible death. He also loved to tear down MDs; apparently, no doctor in the Macusa City Hospital was “half as good” as the RNs and nurse practitioners. He told them lurid stories of his former coworkers, ones who had been fired for drinking or using drugs, ones who had upset the wrong people and gotten blacklisted, ones who had thrown out their ethics to sleep with a patient or slip a favorite patient some extra morphine.

Credence frankly found it all exhausting, and was honestly considering leaning over on the table and going to sleep when he heard something about “—that Irish asshole they hired to replace me when I retired from the telemetry floor.”

“They replaced you with an _Irish_ guy? Irish as in, like, Jamie Dornan? And they told us we weren’t going to run into hot doctors at clinical,” Lavender quipped, leading to a hearty burst of laughter from the others…except Credence, who already knew that she wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, well. Depends on your taste, I guess. He’s apparently brilliant, but get a load of what this idiot did when they let him loose. Now listen, you guys, I _told_ them, ‘look, you gotta find someone really good, someone even _better_ than me,’” this being said in a tone that implied that was utterly impossible, “and instead they hired some loser from the hospice ward. _Hospice!_ Like that’s a real specialty, just letting people _die_? Might as well hire a psychologist, just let a shrink tend the cardiac patients, why not?” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway—the moron lost three patients the first week. And we’re not talking anterior wall MI’s here, boys, we’re talking easy cases, stable angina and the like. And they didn’t fire him. He’s still here, with _my_ old job.”

“Oh, man. That’s not fair at all,” Draco sympathized. “You know, you could always get out of teaching and go back, right?”

Credence didn’t even listen to Dr. Lockhart’s reply. _Hospice_ was the only word he'd really heard. The dreamy Irishman was, or _had been_ , in the same specialty that Credence himself wanted to study. It meant nothing. It _had_ to mean nothing…but oh, it felt like fate. And Credence wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. But the damage was done. He already felt, in the oddest and deepest way, connected to the beautiful practitioner who had looked so inexplicably sad.

After lunch they only had one more hour on the floor, time for one more round of vitals and medication pass with their nurses, and this time Hermione made him stand at the computer during the medication pass and talk her through how to administer the medications, and by the end of the med pass he felt confident that he’d done most of it right. And Hermione very happily confirmed his guess when she told him, “You did really well today. You’ll be ready for your first medication passes in no time. And hey, don’t let Lockhart give you any crap, he’s not as smart as he thinks he is.”

“Was he ever your teacher?” Credence asked hopefully; maybe she’d tell him that Dr. Lockhart wasn’t that bad, or have helpful tips for surviving his clinicals.

“No. I didn’t meet him until he started working here as an NP. But I’ve known him for years and trust me, he’s nowhere near as cool as he tries to act. If he grabs you again, like he did this morning, go to your department head. Don’t look at me like that…I saw how freaked out you were.” She gave him a serious look. “No professor should be handling students like that. Tell someone, okay?”

Credence couldn’t promise anything. After all, it had just been one arm-grab; he was just over-sensitive and he knew it. Besides, he tried to picture telling the easygoing Luna or unflappable Harry about how upset he’d been over one touch and the thought turned his stomach. _I need to calm down. I’m making a big deal over nothing._

The day ended with two solid hours of post-conference. Credence didn’t like that _at all_. Especially since it mostly consisted, again, of Dr. Lockhart bragging about his cardiac unit heroics, and the military guys occasionally chiming in with their own war or ER stories, and only about twenty minutes’ worth of actual helpful information. In the end they were allowed to leave a half-hour early, at least, and Credence drove home thinking that maybe his first day hadn’t been so bad after all. Dr. Lockhart had been awful, but at least he’d gotten to work with a good nurse, and the others in his clinical group seemed nice enough.

And of course…there had been that handsome nurse practitioner…

As soon as Credence had showered and changed out of his scrubs once he got home, his housemates swarmed him. “Well?” Queenie eagerly pressed him, the minute he got to the kitchen. “How was it, honey? Did they treat you right?”

Jacob, Queenie’s lovable dork of a husband, took a different tack and shoved a plateful of something flaky and sugary and heavenly-smelling at Credence. “You gotta be starving. Long day?”

“Kind of.” Credence absently picked up one of the turnovers and bit in, and then let out an involuntary little moan at the taste. Raspberry puff pastry, his favorite. And so, _so_ very appreciated at the end of a day like today. “Mmm, thanks Jacob, this is perfect. Anyway. The other students are nice, and my nurse was amazing. But my teacher is…not the kindest,” he said as diplomatically as he could.

“Who is it?” Tina, Queenie’s sister, asked him, and when he told her, she made a disgusted face. “Oh, lord. Gilderoy Lockhart? Ugh. Newt says he’s a real jackass. Well, it’s too bad you’re stuck with him. But you said your nurse was all right?”

“Yeah. Hermione. She knows…well, _everything_. I hope I get assigned to her again.” Credence looked down at the plate of raspberry pastries and then back to his excited housemates. “Can we just go in the living room or something?” he asked plaintively. “I’m sorry, I’m just…really tired.”

“Oh of course, I’m sorry! C’mon, honey. Let’s get you snuggled up on the couch.” Queenie grabbed Credence with one arm and the pastries with the other and hauled both of them off to the living room, Tina and Jacob not far behind. Within minutes she had him settled on the ancient, squashy, hideous velour love seat that she knew was his favorite, a blanket on his lap and the TV remote in his hand, under strict instructions to “watch whatever you want, Cree, and _no reading_ tonight, you need to give yourself a break!”

Credence ended up nearly falling asleep during an episode of _Stranger Things_ before he gave up and ceded the remote to Queenie. As he dozed through the goofy rom-com she picked out, with his head on her shoulder, his stomach comfortably full, feeling warm and safe and sleepy, all he could think was that he could handle anything that Dr. Lockhart threw his way as long as he could keep coming home to this.

~

Credence had come to live with the Goldstein sisters four years ago, when he’d had the worst fight of his life with his mother after he graduated from bible college and she had informed him that before he could begin working for their moderately-sized evangelical church, he was to be subjected to a summer “training program” that he had quickly figured out was a combination of boot camp and anti-gay conversion therapy.

He had known since he was too young to even know what sex was, that he was “different.” That he was, according to his mother, “sinful.” Adolescence had been a terrible time, with his mother initially doling out cautious praise for his apparent immunity to lust, only for her to turn aggressively cold when he reached college and she caught on to the real reason why her son had never tried to date women.

He’d never heard the word _disgusting_ so many times in his life, as he did the night she confronted him over it. He still had the scars from that night. Still woke up shaking from the memory sometimes.

He’d endured her torment until the day he graduated, when she told him about the conversion therapy camp. And then he snapped. For the first time in his life, Credence had passionately rebelled, heart pounding in his throat, palms sweating, terrified but utterly resolved as he screamed with everything he had that he would not— _could_ not—put himself through that. When she came at him with the belt he had ripped it from her hands, blinded by rage and fear. He’d never hit back before, but this time, he threw the belt away and slapped her with his bare hands. He’d hit her so hard he made her bleed (only a few drops, unfortunately; nothing like what she had inflicted on him over the years) and she had responded by calling the police and trying to have him arrested for assault.

He’d fled the scene. The police officer who had come to the house tracked him down, as he hid out in a McDonald’s ten blocks away from the house. As soon as she understood that he was not a minor and that he was the victim of assault rather than the perpetrator, she had made the snap decision to take him home with her instead of taking him to the station.

And that officer, of course, was none other than Tina Goldstein.

She had been upfront with him from the start: “I can help you, but I can’t fix everything, Credence, you have to understand that right off,” she’d said the first night he came home with her. Tina had willingly taken him into her house on the condition that he find work and, if he so desired, go back to school once he’d recovered from his mother’s assault. She'd made it easier for him by getting his mother arrested and ensuring his sisters went to decent foster homes, but as she'd pointed out she couldn't fix everything and she certainly couldn't erase the pain of what had been done to him before she'd managed to get him out. So she was gentle with him, but she never pretended to be a surrogate mother. She was there, she said, to help him move on, not give him a "do-over childhood."

Queenie, meanwhile, had taken on the very important, self-designated role of “official big sister.” She turned the finished basement into a cozy apartment-like haven for Credence, took him shopping for “real clothes” and did her best to fix the terrible haircut his mother had forced on him until it grew out, taught him to cook and to dance and to sing (he was only good at one of them, but she never seemed to mind), and after he shyly came out to her, she enthusiastically endeavored to get him involved in every local gay-straight alliance she could find.

But best of all, it turned out that Queenie was the head of human resources at a nearby nursing home, and having worked as a nurse aide to put herself through college she’d thought Credence might be suited to it. She eagerly offered to lend him the money to pay for his certification and, though he felt guilty about it at first, he eventually took her up on it. And the rest, as they say, was history. Credence was unfazed by the sight of blood and bodily fluids and had a superhuman amount of patience when dealing with grumpy or aggressive people, both of which made him invaluable as a nurse’s assistant. He found, after only a few weeks of working at the local nursing home, that he was drawn to the medical world like a Texan to a barbecue, and when he’d cautiously announced his intention to go to either medical or nursing school, whichever one accepted him first, the Goldstein sisters had been so thrilled they’d just about knocked him over with the combined power of their hugs.

Not long after Credence moved in, Queenie met Jacob Kowalski when she’d gone to his bakery to pick out a cake for Tina’s birthday. “It’s nothing,” she insisted to both her sister and Credence as she prepared for their first date that very night. But it wasn’t. They were married in six months, and even better, her new husband moved into the Goldstein house because he understood how much Queenie’s family meant to her. And from the moment he met Credence, Jacob treated him with the same warmth and enthusiasm he might’ve displayed if he were dealing with Queenie’s actual flesh and blood brother.

“You two spoil him,” Tina said exasperatedly when she came home from work one day to find that Jacob had baked Credence his favorite cake, just because Credence had completed his application to enter Ilvermorny as a pre-nursing student.

“Well, someone’s got to,” Queenie insisted. “Let Jacob do his thing, Teeny. He likes Credence, and the kid’s had it rough, you know that better than anyone. Besides…a little love never spoiled nobody.” Tina had protested at the time, but when Credence got his Ilvermorny acceptance letter, her carefully-constructed facade of tough love had dropped as they all celebrated, and she herself had bought Credence’s textbooks for his first round of science classes.

It had truly not been until he’d started to study nursing that he felt smart and valuable and not at all the monster he’d been raised to believe he was. Like he had finally found out for himself what God wanted from him, and after years of taking his mother’s insistence that he was supposed to be an evangelist at face value, that felt _good_.

If living with the Goldstein girls was his first step towards salvation, he thought, then maybe the Ilvermorny University School of Nursing was his shot at true redemption. To make up for all those years he’d cowered and laid down and taken orders from his crazy mother. To make some money and repay Tina and Queenie and Jacob for all their kindness.

To do some real good in the world.

And that, Credence reminded himself sternly as he went to bed after his first day of clinicals, was why he was in school. Not to impress anyone, not to make friends. To learn how to be a nurse.

But…he still couldn’t help but think of the handsome NP one last time before he drifted off to sleep.

~

If there was one thing that Dr. Percival Colin Graves knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, it was that love at first sight was the worst kind of Hollywood lie.

Love was real, he knew it. But to insinuate that you could just…magically _love_ someone, instinctively and without any context…that was wrong, and Graves unfortunately had the experience to prove it. Love had to be built up over time, along with loyalty and respect and all the other soppy shit he talked about weekly with a therapist whom he had to believe was getting increasingly exasperated with his apparently-incurable trust issues. He’d been burned one too many times, the last of which left the deepest scar, to believe in the kind of love that he saw in those sugary-sweet movies full of beautiful people and bright music and no consequences.

And so love, to Graves, was his best friend Newt bringing him a lamplighter sandwich from his favorite diner in the middle of the day, just because Graves had texted that it was a _bad day_ and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eat. Love was Lilah, his pharmacist friend at Macusa, texting him a meme that she knew would make him laugh. Love was his oldest friend Seraphina telling him it was all right to fail—but she knew he could do better—after he had a rough week at work. Love was his sister Morgan calling him on a random weeknight because his four-year-old niece had suddenly decided that she needed “Uncle Percy” and refused to go to bed until he’d got on the phone to tell her good-night.

That was love. And Graves was not stupid enough to think he could have that same feeling of safety and comfort with someone he’d only just met…until a pair of hypnotic dark eyes caught his gaze and refused to let go. Until a gentle voice murmured an unnecessary apology for being in his way, and a pale, trembling hand nervously brushed a lock of silky black hair away from the most absurdly beautiful face Graves had ever seen.

 _You’re not in my way,_ Graves had longed to tell him. _I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you._

He’d made himself late for a consult, standing there talking to the kid. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ He couldn’t afford any more negative whispers going around the hospital. _Oh, that damn Dr. Graves. He’s so smart but he’s so difficult. Why do we keep him around again? Recommendation from Dr. Piquery or no, the man is just such a bother. Who the hell cares what his GPA was if he can’t be bothered to keep appointments?_

It was worth it, however, to be a few minutes late and get a glare from the attending, when he remembered the way those dark eyes had combed over him, as if that shockingly lovely creature were, however improbably, as mesmerized by Graves’ presence as Graves had been by his. His heart sped up at the mere thought of the boy. Long and lean and faerie-beautiful, even in those regulation Ilvermorny scrubs…

Graves hadn’t dated anyone in years, and that was not an exaggeration. He had not allowed himself so much as a celebrity crush since that fateful night in the summer of 2013, when he’d been hurt worse than he could have imagined, when someone had left him literally broken and bleeding on the floor, and his best friend had found him and been forced to pick up the pieces. Deeply shaken, the sting of betrayal burrowing under his skin like a tick, feeling violated beyond all possible measure, Graves had sworn to himself that he would never trust anyone besides his inner circle again. It had taken months of reassurance from said inner circle, not to mention a very good therapist, before he could even begin to recover from the pain of that night. And even with that kind of help in his corner, Graves still didn’t think he’d ever dare to venture back into the murky world of dating and romance.

But now. Well. _Now…_

He shook his head at himself. _You moron, you fool. He’s a child. Even if he’s in the accelerated program, you saw him; he can’t be more than twenty-two. You don’t know him, you know nothing about him other than that he’s pretty as hell and you haven’t had sex in years. That’s not enough to give yourself a headache from worrying about whether or not he’ll go out with you. You’re too old for him, too tired, too…broken. You’ll ruin him if you touch him; even if you manage to not break his heart, the fact that your rep at that hospital is tenuous at best will screw up his career before it even starts. Don’t do that to him._

_You’re a sinking ship, you dumbass. Don’t drown that sweet boy along with yourself. He deserves better._

So Graves told himself, a hundred times over, as he prepared for bed that night. But when he looked in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, he couldn’t shake the mental picture of that pretty Ilvermorny boy standing beside him at the sink in a pair of Graves’ pajamas, staring at him through those intense dark eyes, that soft, full mouth curved into a loving smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick primer: DNP = doctorate nurse practitioner (pretty much the highest level a nurse can get, shares some privileges with actual MDs), RN = registered nurse (can have a 2-year or 4-year degree), LPN = licensed practical nurse (technical school), CNA = certified nurse assistant/aide (2-4 week program, ending in state board certification)
> 
> And for anyone who is not a medical nerd: an anterior wall MI is the most dangerous type of heart attack, whereas stable angina is chest pain that is treatable with oxygen and rest. Losing a patient from just plain angina would be much more unusual than losing them due to an anterior wall MI. (Hint hint.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I forgot to mention it in the first chapter: this takes place in 2018, in Michigan (sorry about the lack of NYC, guys, but I barely know my own state's nursing laws; I wasn't about to try and navigate someone else's lol)
> 
> For the texting conversations, bolded = Credence texting Graves, italics and bolded = Graves texting Credence.
> 
> TWs for this chapter: No major ones. Some references to PTSD/concerns about past trauma, but for the most part this chapter is straight-up fluff.
> 
> I have absolutely no excuse for casting Lilah Larson as Graves' pharmacist BFF, aside from the fact that back in September when I first wrote this chapter, I had just stumbled across some SOAIF videos on YouTube and instantly fell in love. In my defense...I did warn you guys that this was going to be the most self-indulgent fic ever. :P

The second day of clinical went about as well as the first. Credence was allowed to have one patient all to himself that day…well, almost; he couldn’t pass meds yet so his nurse would still have to do that. But he filled out his own patient data sheet and wrote up a one-day care plan, took the man’s vitals several times, did all of his own charting, and had to constantly watch the patient’s call light and get him anything he needed.

“You did good today,” Hermione told him when Dr. Lockhart came to get them all off the floor.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it, Ms. Granger. This one didn’t even know how to get report yesterday, if you remember,” Dr. Lockhart reminded her, not even bothering to look at Credence (which was likely a good thing given that his face was hot and he probably looked as embarrassed as he felt). “Don’t want to give the students a false sense of confidence now. Especially ones that don’t show promise.”

“Isn’t that rich, coming from him,” Hermione snarked when Dr. Lockhart had left. “Don’t listen to him, Credence. You’re doing fine.”

He tried to believe her. But after lunch he was treated to another two hours of soul-sucking “and here’s how I saved the lives of two people at once!” bragging from Dr. Lockhart, which did not do wonders for his mood.

It was raining heavily when Dr. Lockhart let them go (early, again) and Credence didn’t feel like taking the long walk through the hospital grounds to get back to the student parking lot just yet. Instead, he went down to the hospital coffee shop. When it was his turn to order he asked for a small, plain black coffee—all he could afford—and was about to pull out his wallet when a pleasant voice behind him nearly stopped his heart: “Hold up there. Caramel macchiato for me, please, and put them both on my tab, Rosie.”

Credence whipped around to see the handsome Irish nurse practitioner from the previous morning. “You don’t have to do that,” Credence blurted out, his voice coming out in a near-squeak from a combination of surprise and embarrassment.

“Why not? I was a student once, I know how hard it is. Let me do something nice for you, please?” He sounded so sincere that Credence just couldn’t bring himself to say no. Moments later, when the drinks were ready, the man picked up both cups, said, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, come with me for a minute,” and led Credence over to the nearest free table.

And Credence—introverted, nervous Credence, who didn’t like to spend too much time talking to anyone other than Queenie, Tina, Jacob, and occasionally Dr. Scamander—willingly followed, and sat down in the chair that the handsome man pulled out for him, feeling a little dizzy and wondering if this was a dream.

“So…” The NP paused a moment to read his name badge. “Credence? Really, that’s your name?” At Credence’s shy nod, the doctor nodded slowly. “Huh. Okay. First things first, Credence, I assure you I’m not stalking you. Just happened to be behind you in line, if you can believe that.”

Credence could believe it was a coincidence. But what he couldn’t believe was what was happening right now. “Okay,” he said, because the man expected him to say something, clearly, and it was the best he could come up with. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know who you are,” he admitted shyly.

“Oh, right.” The man looked down to see that his name badge was flipped to the back. With a sheepish little grin he flipped it right-side out. “Percival Graves, DNP. An absolute mess of one too, by the way, I’ll not lie to you.”

“You seem all right to me,” Credence said before he could stop himself.

“Well. Thanks for that. I try, at least.” He gave Credence a real, warm smile, making butterflies dance through Credence’s stomach. “I’m in telemetry. Which, frankly, I’m not too fond of. I wanted to specialize in hospice care.”

“Oh, me too! I want to do hospice, too,” Credence quickly clarified, when Dr. Graves shot him a surprised look. “I worked in a nursing home for a long time, and got used to older and sicker patients. I…really like giving comfort care, even if it’s sad, I…I just…don’t think anyone should have to die alone, or in pain…”

He trailed off, knowing he was blushing and hating that he couldn’t stop himself, when he realized just how much he’d given away. He couldn’t believe he’d said all of that, without even thinking about it; usually he didn’t like to talk about himself (after all, his story was just too depressing if you thought about it; who’d want to hear any of that?), but something about the way Dr. Graves looked at him, made him feel at ease.

“Well.” Dr. Graves looked impressed. “Well, then. I suppose it’s good that I chose to stop and talk to you, isn’t it?” Suddenly he sighed heavily and shook his head. “You know, Credence, you don’t have to sit here with me if you don’t want to. You don't owe me anything, all right?”

Credence hadn’t expected that. “It’s okay. I really don’t mind.” He wasn’t uncomfortable (well, he did feel awkward, but that was his default, really), but he did like that Dr. Graves gave him the chance to leave if he was. “I…I don’t know why you want to talk to me, though. I mean, I’m not that interesting.”

“You’re in an advanced, accelerated nursing program, and you just told me you’re interested in a specialty that everyone thought I was crazy for wanting to go into. Trust me, Credence, you’re _plenty_ interesting,” Dr. Graves assured him.

It shouldn’t have meant so much. Credence shouldn’t have read anything into it, or felt like he was glowing like the girl from _Stardust_. He shouldn’t have been secretly thankful that he’d kept his hair pulled back after clinical was over (because it showed off the sharp curve of his jawline, which Queenie said was his best feature). He _definitely_ shouldn’t have given the man a shy smile, blushing as he accepted the compliment.

But he did. And Dr. Graves liked it, apparently, because when Credence smiled he smiled back, and said encouragingly, “There we go. A smile looks good on you. So, you’re in the accelerated program, yeah? You must have a degree already, then. Mind if I ask what it is?”

“Um.” Credence winced a little and looked down at his coffee. “Well. My family was, uh, pretty religious growing up, so I…um, I went to Redeemer Christian University. My undergrad degree was in Urban Studies. I was supposed to take over my mom’s church when she retired.”

Dr. Graves’ eyes went wide and he let out a low whistle. “Bible college, huh? Wow. So the science prereqs for this program must’ve taken your head off, yeah?”

“Oh yeah! It was incredible. Those first couple of labs, for biology and anatomy, were just… _wow_. I’d never been allowed to read anything about how the world worked as a kid…I’d never been allowed to learn about how our bodies work, or evolution, or genetics, reproduction, _any_ of that, so I was afraid I’d be behind, but it was so exciting to me I ended up getting an A in the class—” Credence abruptly broke off when he realized that Dr. Graves was staring at him in surprise. Oh. He’d been rambling like an idiot, he realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, face red, eyes back on his coffee cup.

“Credence.” Dr. Graves’ voice was so gentle Credence thought it might just be safe to look up again, so he did. “Please don’t apologize for being excited about something. I’m glad you liked the science classes. I had a bit of a hard time with those, myself. Newt had to straighten me out when we got to pathophysiology, I couldn't keep all those diseases straight.”

“Newt?”

“Dr. Scamander to you. He was my roommate.” At Credence’s obvious shock, Dr. Graves burst out laughing. “Yeah, no one who’s met us believes me when I say that. But he’s only a couple of years younger than me. Don’t let his baby face fool you, he’s the smartest man alive. Well…you’ll see. You’ve got him for health assessment this semester, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve met him before now, though. He’s dating my roommate, so I’m used to just seeing him around my house.”

“Wait—his girlfriend is your roommate? You live with _Tina?_ ” At Credence’s hesitant nod, Dr. Graves let out a low whistle. “She’s tough, isn’t she? She certainly keeps Newt in line and that’s a fact. I’m guessing she doesn’t let you get away with anything either?”

Credence knew what Dr. Graves meant. He loved Tina, he did, but he knew very well she was not someone to be trifled with. “No, but she’s really good to me. She was really excited for me to go to nursing school. Oh, did you know that she’s in school now too, studying psychology and social work? She doesn’t want to be a police detective anymore.”

“She mentioned it, yes. And with the state of the world now, I can’t say I blame her." Dr. Graves shuddered a little. “Dealing with stuff from the ED here is bad enough, just the other day I had a guy who came in and—well, you know what, I won’t scare you. When you get to your critical care clinical, you’ll find out plenty for yourself. You ever been in a cardiac step-down unit?”

Credence shook his head. “No, nor an ED or even a hospital…I worked in a nursing home as an aide, but that’s about it. Right now I can’t even do that. None of the places around here would give me weekends off for clinicals, and of course I couldn’t change my clinical rotation.”

“From what I hear, it’s nearly impossible to hold down a job while you’re in the accelerated program anyway, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they told us that when we were accepted, but I feel bad…I’m dependent on my roomates now and I hate that I can’t help with groceries or bills or anything…” Credence trailed off, his face going red again as he realized, once again, that he was giving far too much away. He looked back down at the table, shame-faced, and murmured a weak apology for oversharing.

But Dr. Graves surprised him, yet again. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Credence,” he said, his voice so soft and understanding that Credence looked up in spite of himself. “I know what it’s like, remember?” He indicated the coffee he’d bought for Credence. “I didn’t do that just for fun, you know. I remember how it feels to be where you are. Believe me, I do. Are the Goldsteins helping you with tuition, as well as room and board?”

Credence hated the implication that he was a charity case. But the way Dr. Graves was looking at him—all kind and gentle and concerned, no judgement, not even the slightest hint that he found anything about Credence unpalatable—made him feel like it was safe to talk. “No…I got a pretty good scholarship, and most of my loans are federally subsidized. But they’re keeping me in their home, they have been for a long time now…it’s a long story…and I feel bad that I can’t contribute like I could when I was working.”

Dr. Graves nodded thoughtfully. He briefly looked away, off into the distance, and then after a good few seconds he said slowly as he turned his gaze back onto Credence, “Listen, Credence…how were you with pharmacology?”

“Oh…” Credence considered it for a moment. “I didn’t like it as much as patho and biology. But I didn’t _dislike_ it. I got a 90, I think.”

Dr. Graves’ eyes lit up. “Oh, perfect. Now, don’t feel any pressure to say yes, but I can hook you up with a friend of mine who works at the Macusa pharmacy, she’s always looking for help. Just a few hours a week of course, nothing to interfere with your clinicals. You won’t make as much money as you did when you were a nurse aide, I’m afraid, but maybe it’ll help you feel a little less reliant on your roommates. What do you think?”

Credence was utterly floored. He’d known Dr. Graves for all of two days and the man was already offering him help. Not just help, a _favor_. “I can’t ask you to do that for me, Dr. Graves,” he protested. “We’ve just met, and it’s not fair for you to go out of your way for me like that—and besides, there’s got to be someone else who’d be more qualified—”

“Oh, fuck that,” Dr. Graves said firmly, and Credence started a little, both at the curse and the tone of his words. “One thing you’ll have to get used to, Credence, is the way we network in the medical world. I don’t think I know one person at this hospital who got their job without knowing someone here. And you’ll love Lilah, she’s just about the closest you’ll ever get to meeting a saint. I’ve known her for years, as has your mate Tina.”

“Oh…really?” It shouldn’t surprise Credence—it seemed the medical world was much smaller than he’d thought—but it still did. It seemed that he’d lucked into just the right “found family” for his chosen career.

“Really. So I’ll tell you what. Go home, tell Tina you’ve got an opportunity to work in the Macusa in-house pharmacy, see what she says. If you still don’t feel right about it, I’ll let it go. Here, give me your phone and I’ll put my number in. Try to let me know in the next two days or so, all right?”

Feeling a little dazed, as if he’d walked into a dream, Credence handed over his phone and watched Dr. Graves key in his number, then call himself so they’d have each other’s information. And just like that, his very first weekend of clinicals, Credence was the proud owner of a handsome DNP’s phone number. “Thank you, Dr. Graves. I really appreciate it,” he said as he took back his phone, hand shaking just a little as their fingers brushed.

“It’s my pleasure.” Dr. Graves gave Credence a warm smile. “Now I’ve got to go, and I’m sure you do too. But I very much look forward to hearing from you again, Credence. And I mean that. Even if you don’t take the job…you use that number whenever you need to, all right? I won’t pretend I’m the best practitioner in the world, but I’ve been around the block a few times. Just consider any expertise I might have at your disposal.”

And with one last wink and smile he left, and Credence stayed frozen in his chair for a good five minutes after the man was gone. Suddenly, his entire world had changed, and his future was bright with infinite possibilities. No matter what else happened, Credence knew he would never, _ever_ forget the way Dr. Graves had looked at him as he said, _I very much look forward to hearing from you again, Credence._

~

Graves had absolutely no intention of going to the pharmacy, having gotten in trouble the previous day for allegedly “distracting” the pharmacist and techs. The HR rep had actually gone so far as to derisively order him to “flirt with the pharmacist on your own time, please, Dr. Graves.”

“Should we tell her you’re gay and I’m taken?” Lilah had murmured between barely-contained snickers after the irate supervisor had walked away.

“Nah, let her think we’re having a torrid affair, it’ll make life more interesting,” Graves snarked, just to make her laugh.

In the interest of not making trouble for Lilah, he’d planned to stay away for a few days…but now, well, he had business there; he was justified. He strolled into the pharmacy just in time to see her in action, patiently explaining to a man that, no, it was _not_ in his best interest to take viagra and then huff some nitrous oxide. Biting back the desire to laugh, he hid behind a rack of health pamphlets and waited for her to finish gently telling the patient not to be a moron. 

When she was finally done she beckoned Graves to the counter. “Please tell me you’ve got some good news,” she greeted him. “If one more idiot asks me if it’s safe to drink beer with Klonopin, I’m gonna need some myself.”

“Beer or Klonopin? Or both?” he teased.

“Don’t frickin’ tempt me,” she snorted. “At this rate, just put it in a damn IV, man. _Christ_.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve found you a new storehand.”

“Storehand? What are we, _The Young Riders_?” She put on an exaggerated southwestern accent. “‘Aw, gee Teaspoon, thank you for findin’ someone to help me mind the general store while you’re out ridin’ the ponies!’”

Graves had to bite his lips to keep from bursting out laughing. “Jesus, Ly. You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

“What else is new,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Graves laughed again. This time he didn’t bother to stifle the sound, nor did he make any effort to stop himself from staring at his friend with bald admiration. It was no wonder, he reflected, that the majority of the pharmacy staff, as well as half the regular patients, thought they were secretly _a thing._

But they weren’t. Graves had known Lilah for nearly five years, since she’d begun her residency in the hospital pharmacy around the same time he started working the telemetry unit. He’d liked her immediately: not only was she intensely, _absurdly_ smart, she was tough. She’d graduated high school early, worked her ass off to put herself through pharmacy school, and pretty much battered her way into a Macusa residency through sheer force of will. She was ice-cold to people who crossed her and delightfully warm to everyone else.

Now she regarded him with interest as she said, “So you’ve found me some fresh meat, this early in the semester? They must be pretty special.”

“Indeed they are. Cute little nursing student from Ilvermorny, needs some money for school. You’ll love him. He’s smart as a whip even if he is as shy as a kicked puppy. You’d only get him for a couple of days a week as he’s doing the quick program, but he’s worth it. He’ll charm the shit out of the patients.”

“‘Charm the shit out of them?’” she echoed with a smirk. “Wow, so classy. Let’s hope you haven’t been too much of an influence on him yet…so, do I get to meet the kid or what?”

“Well, I have to convince him to take the job first, see. He’s a little hesitant to accept a favor. I should warn you now, the kid is sweet but he’s also dead skittish. You’ll see when you meet him…he’s got this deer-in-the-headlights look even when he’s just sitting there talking to you…well…” Graves was furious to feel that his face was getting warm. “You’ll find out, if I have my way,” he finished, hoping to avoid tipping his hand.

But Lilah knew him too well. “This isn’t just a random student, is it?” she said, the teasing lilt replaced with sudden, repentant understanding.

“It’s not like that,” Graves said far too quickly, and then when she gave him that pityingly knowing look, he winced and said, “Look, I literally just met the kid yesterday. All I know is that he’s staying with Tina Goldstein and he knows Newt, and that’s good enough for me, so—just take him, will you, Ly? He needs a break, okay?”

“So do you,” she said, and then asked him point-blank, “Has anything happened?”

“No. I need…time,” he said carefully.

He might’ve expected a scolding if he’d been talking to Sera, but Lilah just nodded and said, “Well, if you need some of that time to be spent in a shady bar drinking hipster beer, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I may well take you up on that.” He looked over to the door just in time to see a handful of patients arrive, all of them, it appeared, bearing prescription slips. “Sorry, dear, but it looks like you’re about to get slammed. I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

“That new help can’t come fast enough,” she said with a sigh and a shake of her head. Graves nodded sympathetically and left her to her work.

The thing was…he didn’t let himself reflect on it until he was safely home and zoned out in front of an ancient rerun of _America’s Funniest Home Videos,_ a cup of iced decaf tea sweating in his hands…he _did_ want to ask out Credence. He could admit that now. He wouldn’t have impulsively bought the kid a coffee if he wasn’t at least a little infatuated; as adeptly as he might have played it off as a kind gesture from experienced nurse to baby nurse, the fact remained that it was not a thing he would do for just any student.

No, there was no denying it now: five years of well-maintained, self-defensive apathy towards love and romance flew out the window when Graves was in Credence’s presence. He should have been able to brush it off as protective instinct kicking in, his old trauma rearing its ugly head. Credence was young and sweet and seemed defenseless, _and_ he was apparently studying under that asshole Lockhart; of course it was natural that Graves would be drawn to him.

 _You just see yourself in him,_ he told himself sternly. _You don’t want what happened to you, to happen to him. That’s it, that’s all this is. And if it isn’t, tamp it down. You heard his story earlier; he’s a repressed church kid, if he is gay he likely doesn’t even know it yet. He’s not interested, he’ll probably be disgusted if you come on to him._

But Graves wasn’t stupid. He’d seen the look of tentative joy in Credence’s eyes when they exchanged phone numbers; he knew what that meant. Credence, if that look meant anything, was very decidedly _not_ disgusted by the idea of seeing Graves outside Macusa. And therein, of course, lay the problem.

The last time Graves had let himself get close to someone had ended so badly that he’d been in no hurry to repeat any facet of the experience. But Credence cracked open a long-sealed vault of desire in him, made him feel things, _want_ things, that he’d never thought he would want again. And that…that was terrifying, of course; making himself so vulnerable to anyone, even someone as sweet and unassuming as Credence, would not be easy. But Graves had to admit now, like it or not, he very desperately wanted to.

The thought of stripping Credence out of those stiff red scrubs and letting the kid have his way with him was absolutely intoxicating. He imagined holding the lithe body against his chest, kissing that perfect neck, nuzzling that razor-sharp jaw and twisting that beautiful black hair through his fingers. He wanted to feel that sweet, lovely creature inside him, wanted to be so close to him that neither of them could breathe or see or know anything but each other. Wanted to fall asleep with Credence’s head pillowed on his chest, the boy’s unbelievably long limbs wrapped around him like a seatbelt, both protecting Graves and being protected by him.

 _No. He’s not for you. We’ve been over this,_ Graves sternly told himself. _He needs to be free, to learn and grow, to live his life, without you holding him back._

It didn’t help at all that Credence, it seemed, was perpetually nervous. Graves had chalked his initial shyness down to first-day nerves, but after their longer conversation today, he was forced to admit that the tender sweetness that came off Credence in waves had a dark undertone to it. He might look like the picture of innocence, but there was something in him that smacked of long-buried fear. Graves couldn’t have explained it if he’d tried, but somehow whatever Credence had been through called out to him, trauma speaking to trauma.

_Yes, exactly. Which is exactly why you need to keep your hands off him. He needs a friend, a mentor, someone to look out for him. I don’t care how badly you want him. Don’t touch him. He’ll be better off without you._

He was still kicking his own ass when his phone went off. His stomach flipped when he saw the text: **Hello, Dr. Graves. I hope you’re having a good evening. If it’s still available, I would very much like to interview for the pharmacy job.**

His heart fluttered madly in his chest, jolts of pleasure and adrenaline rushing through him. The name on the screen alone was enough to make him weak. _Credence Barebone._ Now here it was. The moment of truth. He had to decide right now if he was going to maintain an air of cool, detached professionalism, or if he was going to let himself fall for for Credence and see where things went from there.

 _Okay,_ he tried to tell himself, _you know you can’t hold him at arm’s length. The kid is sensitive, he’s going to notice and you’ll hurt his feelings. Try just treating him like a friend. Talk to him like you would Lilah._

He texted back, **_I was so hoping you’d say yes, Credence._** Well, great. That couldn’t have sounded less platonic if he’d just come right out and proposed marriage. He quickly followed it up with, **_I spoke to my friend at the pharmacy today. She’s dying to meet you. I can take you after your clinical on Saturday._**

The next message came almost immediately: **I’d love that, but are you sure it wouldn’t be too inconvenient?**

Graves laughed aloud at the absurdity of _any_ time spent with Credence feeling inconvenient. **_Actually, she’s just about ready to kidnap you. You’ll really be doing us all a favor, you know. The pharmacy always needs more techs. When I was there today the place was swamped._ **

He was laying it on thick, perhaps, but suddenly, the thought of Credence _not_ taking the job left him feeling cold. He wanted, with a desire that took him quite by force, nothing more than to know that he’d done something, _anything_ , to calm the anxiety that hung like a cloud over that innocent face.

 **I hadn’t thought of it like that. But if she really needs the help, of course I’d be happy to do it,** Credence answered. Then, a moment later, while Graves was composing his reply: **It’s so kind of you to do this for me, Dr. Graves. I really appreciate your help.**

Graves’ heart melted into a puddle. The boy was so earnest…but so _nervous_. Graves was absolutely certain that he knew, or at least could imagine, where that fear came from. Strict parents were one thing, and he knew plenty of students and colleagues alike who suffered from that childhood indignity. But Credence almost seemed afraid of some nebulous, but deeply painful, consequences if he were anything less than perfect and polite.

And with that realization, something in Graves snapped. He knew, with sudden, aching clarity, that he couldn’t keep his feelings for Credence in check. There was no way. If he wanted to truly repress what he felt now, he would have to cut Credence from his life completely. And the thought of doing that was utterly unbearable. Imagining the look of pain on the boy’s face if he were to suddenly withdraw his offer of friendship made Graves sick to his stomach.

 _I’m in love,_ he realized with a jolt of mixed pleasure and fear. _Oh God, I’m in love with him. It’s not “protective instinct,” it’s not desire. I don’t just want to sleep with him, I don’t just want to be his mentor. I want to be his everything._

For a good few minutes he fought with himself, the desire to call Credence and unburden his heart to the poor unsuspecting boy warring with his own pain and fear. Because just realizing that he loved Credence, of course, did not solve the greater problem of him being absolutely _not good enough_ for Credence. 

So, quashing down the emotions brought on by his sudden revelation, he texted back, **_Don’t mention it. This is what nurses, the good ones anyway, do for each other. And something tells me you could really use a break._ **

And damn it if his heart didn’t take off like a helicopter when the kid replied not with text, but with a .gif of a shy kitten covering its face with tiny paws, the words _thank you_ flashing across the screen.

Tomorrow, Graves decided then and there. Tomorrow when he saw his therapist he’d talk about it, would float the idea of dating again, try and sort out his initial _no bad don’t touch_ reaction from what was actually fair and reasonable. And then…maybe next time he saw Credence, if he dared…if there was any chance that Credence felt the same way... _maybe_...

It was past midnight when he finally went to bed because, like a teenager falling in love for the first time, he stayed up to keep texting Credence. And he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even towards the end, when his head nodded over his phone and he too was reduced to sending .gifs and emojis because he was just too tired to think of the right words.

It was going to be all right. He was sure of it. There was plenty of time to figure things out, and in the meantime, he would be the best damn friend to Credence that he could possibly be.

_Love at first sight…what a concept._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's another quick update! DO NOT get used to this update schedule though, guys...I have, like, half this story written already, but once I run out of pre-banked-up chapters that just need to be beta-read and edited, it will slow waaaaaay down. Just a warning. :P
> 
> TWs for this chapter: Mild references to abuse (mainly re: Credence's scars, which come up a couple of times). IDK if "Credence has a heartbreakingly low opinion of himself" should be a TW, but just in case.

Graves realized just how deeply in trouble he was on Thursday night, after four days of intermittent texting, when he kept looking at the clock as it got closer to his self-imposed work night bedtime, anxiously counting down the minutes until he had to turn off his phone and go to sleep. He didn’t want to go to bed yet, because Credence had suddenly stopped texting back, and that…well, honestly, that was tragic, but Graves knew it was all his fault.

It had started out nicely enough, and then when Graves asked about how health assessment was going, Credence told him, **I like the class itself, it reminds me of pathophysiology. But I don’t like lab.**

 **_Why not?_ ** Graves asked.

 **Because we have to take off our clothes for some of the demonstrations. I hate the idea of taking my shirt off in class** _,_ Credence told him candidly.

 ** _Yeah, I wasn’t much a fan of that part either. My partner had the abdominal assessment._ ** Knowing how shy Credence was, it didn't surprise Graves in the least that he was so unhappy at the idea of public semi-nudity. ** _So is that what’s got you so upset? You’re feeling a little shy about getting undressed in class? Or is there more to it?_**

Credence maintained radio silence for a good ten minutes. This was when Graves began his pace-and-stare dance. He’d upset Credence, he just knew it, and now the poor scared thing was going to avoid him forever—

And then his phone, after ten agonizing minutes, alerted him to a message. **I got hurt a while back, and you can tell when you see me with my shirt off. I don’t want everyone to see that.** Graves exhaled. Okay, that wasn’t what he’d expected, but he could work with it.

 _ **I'm sorry. Sounds like this whole thing is causing some serious stress, which is the last thing you need right now.**_ He sent that one while thinking up something else to say, something better, and finally settled on, _**And if you need someone to talk to, sweetheart, I'm here. I've been where you are. I know how intense all these clinical simulations can be.**_ Graves didn’t realize his mistake until after he’d sent the second text. But it was too late…that “sweetheart” was out there, in electronic record, for the rest of time.

But before he could apologize, another message came through: **I really appreciate that. You’re so easy to talk to, Dr. Graves. Especially now that I know** **you won’t just tell me it’s silly to be upset about the demos.**

 **_Because it’s not “silly” at all. You’re understandably upset at having a pretty reasonable boundary violated._** Graves had always hated the idea of those stupid demos. At least let students keep their damn clothes on, _Christ_ , it wasn't like they were actually assessing a patient, it was just practice. Knowing that Credence felt the same way made him feel an odd sort of kinship. Like this one thing somehow made them more compatible.

There was another beat. Then, after almost five minutes (and a good fifteen past Graves’ usual sleeping time), **I have to go to bed soon. Early class. Do you work tomorrow?** When Graves confirmed that he did, Credence replied, **Then you probably need to sleep too. See you Saturday?**

**_Saturday it is. We can have coffee again, if you like, after I take you to meet Lilah._ **

**I’d like that very much, Dr. Graves. :)**

He didn’t mention the “sweetheart,” and Graves firmly resolved to let it lie. But he couldn’t push away the image, as he fell asleep that night, of holding Credence clutched in his arms like a human teddy bear, kissing that soft hair as he rumbled a quiet “Good night, sweetheart,” into the boy’s ear, and hearing a sighed confession of love in reply.

~

Credence waited until the day before his second weekend of clinicals to talk to Tina about Dr. Graves. After dinner on Friday night, he settled himself at the breakfast bar with his Fundamentals homework, while she worked in the kitchen. Initially he tried to be subtle, casually mentioning that he’d “run into” someone who knew her while he was at clinicals, and he was just curious.

But not for nothing was Tina a police detective, and after confirming that she and Dr. Graves were indeed friends and “went way back,” she started probing. It took her no time at all to learn that 1) Dr. Graves was the “friend” who had gotten him the job interview, 2) they had been texting for days now, and 3) Credence was fathoms deep in love with the man.

“I’ll have to have a talk with him about behaving inappropriately with the Ilvermorny students,” she sighed when her interrogation was over. “Credence, you know he’s far too old for you. And you know with your workload, you really shouldn’t be dating right now.” Credence did indeed know both of those things, but it didn’t make it sting any less when Tina added matter-of-factly, “Anyway, it’d be a waste of time. He never dates anymore, but even if he did, you really aren’t his type.”

“This isn’t any of your business, Tina,” Credence told her quietly, his heart still breaking over _not his type_. “I just wanted to know if you knew who he was, because he brought up your name. I wasn’t asking you for his hand in marriage.”

“He’s my friend and so are you, so this very much _is_ my business,” Tina said firmly. When she saw the look on his face she sighed and reached over to sympathetically pat his arm. “Listen, I know it’s hard, being alone for so long. Believe me, I know how you feel. But you need to be patient. Wait for school to end, and wait for the right person. Okay?” She went back to her work, leaving Credence reeling.

Credence knew she was probably right. Dr. Graves _was_ much older than him. And it _would_ be hard to start a relationship in the middle of such an intense program. But the ease with which she dismissed his feelings made him angry. Not only was she being insensitive, but she was also talking to him like he was a child. That was something he absolutely couldn’t handle, and she knew that and did it anyway.

“No,” he said suddenly, and felt rather than saw Tina stop in her tracks. He fixed his eyes on her, heart pounding, the hand that wasn’t resting on the counter slowly curling into a fist. “No. That’s not fair. You’re—you’re _wrong_.”

The response was quick, almost rehearsed: Tina stopped where she was, faced him with an open stance, and held her hands out to the side, far away from the pale-pink belt holding up her jeans. _I won’t hurt you,_ her whole body said loud and clear. _You can tell me what you’re upset about. I won’t punish you._

He swallowed hard and took a breath before he said, “I know you’re just trying to help. But you don’t know how I feel—you’re not me—you’re not alone, you know how it feels to have someone, and I _don’t_. Because no one ever wants me once they see that I’m such a mess, and I know it’s going to be the same way with him. You didn’t have to throw it in my face! ‘You’re just not his type’—I know that’s code for ‘it’s never going to happen,’ I _know_ that, Tina! I’m not stupid!”

Credence had to stop there to suck in a few quivering deep breaths and steady himself. He hated being angry, and now he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. And even though he knew Tina wouldn’t hit him, the impulse to try and hide his tears was still there.

“I know I shouldn’t love him,” he said when he could speak again. “But the thing is, I—I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never just looked at someone and—and had that—that feeling, like—like now everything’s going to be okay, just because I know they exist. And I—I’m afraid _all the time_ —but with him I feel a little bit less afraid. And I need that, okay? I need it, so—even if you don’t like it—I have to try, Tina, I just— _have to_.”

Tina patiently waited Credence out, and when he finally subsided into anxious silence, she gave it a moment to make sure he was finished before she said softly, “Okay. It’s okay. I’m proud of you, Credence. I know it’s hard for you to speak up when you’re upset.” She took a couple of careful steps towards him, hands still far away from her waist. “I’m gonna talk now, and if you don’t feel like listening you can call a halt and we’ll finish later. Okay?” She waited for his consent before she went on, “So. First of all…oh, Credence, you know I think the world of you, don’t you?”

Well. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. “You do?” he said, unable to hide his surprise.

“Oh, absolutely,” she assured him. “The fact that you trust me enough now to get angry with me—Credence, that’s _huge_. And you know…the way you were brought up, it’s kind of a miracle that you even _can_ let yourself fall for someone, you know, that you…that you understand that it’s not 'wrong,' you know? That’s incredible, and I shouldn’t have tried to minimize it. And I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” he said automatically.

“No, it’s not. You don’t have to accept every apology someone offers you, you know.”

“No, but I know you mean it.”

“Well…yeah, I do.” She sighed and came to sit beside him. “And I also shouldn’t have said that I know how you feel, because you’re right, I don’t. For the record, just because Newt and I are doing really well now doesn’t mean I’ve never been single and lonely before; I have, and I do know how that feels…but I can’t even imagine how scary it must be for you, trying to date as a survivor of abuse. I should tell you, though, that’s precisely why I wouldn’t recommend that you date Graves. Now, I know that’s not what you want to hear, and I’m truly sorry that I can’t change my position on it, but Credence…you don’t know him.”

“I know he got me a job, and he didn’t have to do that,” Credence told her. “And I know that he’s been really good to me, he texts me and listens to me and always asks if I’m okay. I’m not his student. He has no motive to be nice to me. But he always is.”

Tina was quiet for a long moment. Finally she said softly, “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but that’s just how he is. It doesn’t mean he…has feelings for you.”

“But that’s my point. He’s not flirting, he’s just a good person. I just…I don’t know how, Tina, but I just _know_.”

“Well, you’re right about that. I’ve known him for years and he _is_ a good person, I wouldn’t debate that for a second. But that’s not reason enough to think you’re in love with him, is it?”

Credence didn’t know how to explain to her that it wasn’t just that. That when he looked at Dr. Graves, it felt like there was a sign above his head, glowing like a neon light, that said _this person is safe._ That it wasn’t just that he gave Credence butterflies, it was that he was so easy to talk to, so gentle and almost unbearably kind. So all he said, very quietly and unhappily, was, “You’re doing it again.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, let’s try this again,” Tina quickly backtracked. “You and Graves are both extremely important to me, and I would hate to see either one of you get hurt. So—” She paused, and then said very carefully, “Let’s put it this way, if he _does_ want you, the chances that he’ll actually act on it, are very small. It’s just the way he works. All right? So if you do ask him out, _please_ be careful, and don’t break your heart over it if he says no. I know you like him—he’s hard not to like, isn’t he?—but I promise you, he’s not the only guy in the world. And if you _really_ can’t wait until after school is over, at least wait until you’ve gotten used to it, maybe in a semester or two. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be careful. I promise.” He paused, and then added, “And I’m sorry that I yelled at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

Tina looked at him in surprise for a moment, before she let out an amazed laugh. “You do remember that I work for the Detroit PD, right kid? Trust me, that was _not_ yelling,” she teased him. “I’ve gotten worse from cranky toddlers and unhappy little old church ladies.”

“Okay, now that’s just mean,” he protested, but he couldn’t help laughing too. After the conversation they’d just had it felt good to joke with her, to know that she didn’t hold his anger against him. Even four years after leaving home, he still wasn’t quite used to that.

Tina offered him a hug before they parted, but he turned it down. Credence did very badly want to be touched and held, but not by her. He went to bed early, but couldn’t sleep. Not only was he dreading seeing Dr. Lockhart again, he also couldn’t stop thinking about everything else that had happened that week. Nursing school, as everyone had warned him, was not for the faint of heart. It seemed like every time he thought it might all be okay, the Ilvermorny School of Nursing had another unpleasant surprise for him.

They had finally gotten their health assessment lab assignments, and in two weeks’ time, Credence was going to have to undress from the waist up to allow his partner, Neville, to do a chest assessment on him… _in front of the whole class_. He wanted badly to email Dr. Scamander and beg him to switch assignments, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Dr. Scamander had been very clear; the assignments were by luck of the draw, and it wasn’t fair to try and change them. So like it or not, Credence was going to have to expose his hideously-scarred back to a dozen of his classmates and his roommate’s boyfriend. Excellent.

He badly wanted to text Dr. Graves; the man had been so understanding when Credence had told him he was nervous about health assessment lab…but it was almost 10:00, and he knew Dr. Graves got up early for work on the weekends. But, he reminded himself, he _would_ see Dr. Graves tomorrow. And maybe he could tell the kind-hearted NP what was troubling him, and then…

Credence’s eyes finally closed as he let the fantasy take him. _Dr. Graves, I’m so afraid_ , he’d confess. _I can’t do that demonstration. They’re all going to laugh at me, and make fun of my scars. Or even worse, they’ll pity me, and think I’m weak. I can’t handle it, Dr. Graves, I just can’t._

And he’d let the tears come to his eyes, allow himself the release of showing his pain, and Dr. Graves would make that same soft, sympathetic noise he’d made when they had coffee, and put a gentle arm around Credence and tell him, _I know you’re frightened, but you don’t have to be. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be all right, sweetheart._

(Oh yes, Credence had noticed that _sweetheart_ in Dr. Graves’ text. He’d locked the message so it wouldn't accidentally get erased, and then taken a screenshot for good measure.)

 _But what am I going to do? I don’t want them to see me, see how ugly I am,_ Credence would protest, and Dr. Graves would embrace him then, wrap both arms around him fully and let Credence lay his head against that strong chest.

 _Oh, no they won’t. They’ll see what I see. You’re so beautiful, Credence. Don’t be ashamed of a few scars._ He’d rub Credence’s back through his scrubs, his touch gentle and firm all at once, caressing all of Credence’s fears away. _See, I don’t mind touching you, holding you. I like it very much, actually._

Credence imagined tucking his head into the crook of the man’s neck, inhaling that lovely cinnamon-and-coffee scent, letting Dr. Graves’ soothing touch lull him into feeling safe and relaxed. _Thank you, Dr. Graves,_ he would sigh, his lips inches from the man’s warm skin. _I knew you’d make me feel better._

 _You’re always safe with me, Credence,_ Dr. Graves would assure him. And then maybe his voice would get a little rougher, darken just a bit, as he added, _And anyone who laughs at you or calls you weak will answer to me. No one is ever going to hurt you again, sweetheart. Not while I’m around._

It was a beautiful dream. And even though he knew deep down it was impossible, it would _never_ happen...the fantasy still made him feel so good, in ways he couldn't explain. Usually it took at least one repeat of _Healing_ , a decades-old Todd Rundgren album that he'd used as a self-soothing tool since he'd moved in with the Goldsteins and Tina had introduced him to good music, to put him to sleep when he felt anxious. He didn't know whether it was a good sign that the thought of being cuddled by Dr. Graves worked just as well...but it didn't matter; either way, he still fell asleep with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and woke up the next morning without having had a single nightmare.

~

Credence couldn’t stop his heart and his body from humming with beautiful anticipation at the thought of seeing Dr. Graves after his clinical. He had a different nurse that day, a short, nasty, hard-faced woman named Dolores, but he let her fake-sweet, barely-veiled insults roll off his back. _Dr. Graves is waiting for you_ , he reminded himself when she insinuated, for the fifth time, that he was better off as a CNA. _Dr. Graves is going to get you a job. Dr. Graves believes in you._ _Don’t listen to her._

Dr. Graves met him at the elevators at 3:30. (The others were long gone because Dr. Lockhart let everyone out early, _again_ ; Credence was beginning to doubt he’d get 200 full clinical hours out of this class). “Ready to go?” he asked in that lovely accent.

“Very ready,” Credence said a lot more confidently than he felt.

Dr. Lilah Larson, pharmacist on staff, turned out to be every bit as nice as Dr. Graves had described. Her first words upon setting her eyes on Credence were “Oh, you’re right, Graves, he _is_ going to charm the shit out of the customers. You’re my new best friend,” she informed Credence cheerfully. “Mmm, _yes_. This one’s going to be good, I can just tell. Have you ever been around pills, honey? Mixed suspensions? I don’t know what all they let CNAs do, but I’m sure you can—”

“Ly, don’t throw him in without a life preserver,” Dr. Graves interrupted her. “He’s not a certified tech yet, you’ll have to train him.”

“We can do that. You’re certified by the state as a nurse aide, right?” she asked, and Credence nodded. “Then you’ll know how to deal with the state exams, all that crap. This’ll be a piece of cake. Don’t you worry about a thing, okay?”

She told him to go to HR on Monday, handed him an envelope that contained papers for him to take to the hiring manager and a laminated notebook of pharmacy policies, and just like that, Credence officially had a job. He just about cried when he thanked her. But she brushed it off, just as Dr. Graves had.

“We were all students once,” she told him firmly. “There’s no shame in letting someone help you get a leg-up, sweetie. And look, Graves here? You’re _so_ lucky to have him in your corner. He’ll do literally anything for his friends, and trust me, I’d know. He’s one of the best. Just don’t let him kill you with his terrible sense of humor and you’ll be just fine.”

“I’m standing right here,” Dr. Graves complained, but he was smiling fondly at Lilah and, inexplicably, Credence felt a burst of jealousy.

 _Tina never said anything about him being gay,_ he realized with a little jolt of horror as he and Dr. Graves walked back to the cafe. _She just said, he wasn’t the best person to date…does she know something?_

He managed to wait until they were settled in with their coffee before he asked the burning question: “You and Dr. Larson? I mean—you and Lilah?” (She’d all but threatened to hurt him if he called her by her last name; “we’re practically the same age, it’s stupid.”) “Are you—how long have you been—”

Dr. Graves shot him a knowing smile. “We aren’t dating, Credence.” He paused, and then added reflectively, “You certainly aren’t the first person to make that leap. I know how it looks, believe me, I do. But she and I aren’t like that and we never will be. I’m gay, so she’s already ‘not my type,’ as it were, but on top of that, she’s polyamorous; she’s in a band with two guys her age, and dating both of them. So, you know. I’m not really her type either.”

“Oh.” Credence blushed furiously. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business,” he said repentantly, staring down into his cup of coffee like it might save him. Even through his embarrassment, his heart was singing. _He’s gay! He’s gay, he just said it plainly for the world to hear, you could tell him now, you could_ —

“No harm done,” Dr. Graves said, sounding more amused than offended. “Better you know now, I think, so it won’t shock you when she eventually lets it slip in front of you.”

“I wouldn’t be shocked,” Credence assured him. “I know about plural marriage.” When Dr. Graves shot him a skeptical look, Credence just shrugged and said, “The Bible was the only book I was allowed to read growing up. You forget, there’s plenty of polyamory going on in _there_. King Solomon had 300 wives. So what’s it to me if Dr. Lar—if Lilah wants to be with more than one person?”

Dr. Graves looked amused again. “Well, then. No problem, is there?”

“No problem, except for the part where I pried into your private business. That was why I was apologizing.”

“No apology needed. But if it’ll make you feel better, tell you what—I’ll let it slide if you tell me something equally personal, how’s that?”

That sounded fair enough to Credence. “I’m gay too,” he offered shyly, and them blushed deep-red again. “But, um. I’m not, like…good at it.” He winced as the words left his mouth; he sounded so _stupid_.

“Why don’t you elaborate on that,” Dr. Graves prompted gently. “It’s not like I’m going to keep score here. You don’t lose points for, I don’t know, not being into _The Golden Girls._ ”

Credence couldn’t help but laugh at that, nervous as he was. “I just mean…I don’t really get out much. Like. I’ve _had_ dates, I just…they just…never really go anywhere. And I don’t like parties. Or crowds. Or drinking. Or—um. You know. Casual dating.” He just barely stopped himself from saying _casual sex._

Dr. Graves nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re a little old-fashioned, then? Nothing wrong with that. Trust me, if one-night stands and binge drinking were prerequisites for being gay, I’d have had my membership card revoked a long time ago," he said with a little laugh. Then his face turned serious. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to judge you for anything." A shiver ran up Credence’s spine; Dr. Graves sounded so close to how he had in his fantasy. “You don’t have to be afraid with me, all right? If I ever make you uncomfortable, you can turn around and leave. You can tell me anything you like; trust me, after the things I've seen I'm _very_ difficult to shock. I want to be your friend, Credence. I don’t ever want to be another source of anxiety for you. You understand?”

Credence heard what he was saying, and it only made him melt more…but really what got him, of course, was the fact that Dr. Graves had, once again, called him _sweetheart_. “Okay,” Credence said softly, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest. He wanted so badly to reach out and take Dr. Graves’ hand in his…but he didn’t. He wasn’t quite bold enough for that just yet. For now it was enough to look into those kind brown eyes, see that tender, friendly smile, and enjoy the deep sense of safety and comfort that enveloped him as he sat across from the man he now knew he loved.

~

On Monday, Credence went back to Macusa City Hospital, got lost three times on the way to the HR office, and spent a good two hours in said HR office filling out forms and clicking through computer training modules. Thankfully the lion’s share of required training had already been finished in preparation for his clinicals, so he was done with the boring part fairly quickly and got to go back to the actual pharmacy. Lilah did much the same thing that the nurses on the floor had done, and bade him to stay by the counter and watch for a while, just so he could get a feeling of what he’d be expected to do on the job.

Soon, sensing perhaps that he was getting a little bored, she sent him over to a tall, red-headed man named Ron, a “level II” pharmacy tech (and if that was supposed to mean something, it was lost on Credence) and told him, “Teach him the pill-counting process, and if we get any scripts for a suspension, teach him to mix them.” Then she rushed off to deal with some unhappy patient at the counter, leaving Credence alone with his apparent new handler.

Fortunately, Ron was nice. “Don’t worry,” he said cheerfully as he showed Credence how to count Norco, “you’re new, so if you miscount and accidentally give someone too many opioids, I’m sure they’ll let you off with a $5K fine instead of arresting you.”

“Swell,” Credence muttered, making Ron burst out laughing.

It wasn’t the most exciting job he’d ever had, and Credence privately thought he would’ve preferred to go back to the nursing home. But he’d never been one to shirk his share of work, even if he wasn’t getting paid for it (something he could “thank” his mother for, he supposed), and Ron seemed impressed by how quickly Credence learned to count pills, run insurance checks, and mix oral suspensions. 

By the time Lilah came over to check on them, Credence felt like maybe he wasn’t going to be completely useless at this job after all. “How are we doing? Is he giving you any trouble, Ron?” she asked, giving Credence a little smile and a wink to let him know she was kidding.

“He’s great,” Ron reported happily. “He’s one of those lucky bastards who can add numbers in his head like a calculator.”

“Good, good.” To Credence she said, “So, it’s almost noon, honey. Why don’t you take your break?” To Ron she added, “You can go too. Make sure he eats something, will you? Graves made promise to ‘take care of him,’ and you know me, I’m not one to break a promise.” She shot Credence another wink, and he couldn’t hide the ensuing blush.

“You must be something special,” Ron remarked as they clocked out. “Graves brings us a new tech once in a while, but he’s never told Lilah to specifically watch out for any of them.”

“I’m not,” Credence protested, still blushing. “I don’t know why he said that, I can…I can take care of myself,” he said, a little defensively.

“Well, he likes you, and that’s a fact,” Ron said bluntly. “I’m just telling you how it is…Graves doesn’t take a special interest in the nursing students unless Dr. Picquery makes him teach a clinical rotation, and even then…well, he only ever brings students over to be techs as a favor to Lilah, and only if she really needs the help.”

“Really?” Credence thought that over as he followed Ron to the break room. When they were alone he asked, “Know anything else about him? Dr. Graves, I mean?”

Ron shook his head. “No. Not much, anyway, other than that he practically has to be kicked out of here when his shifts end. The doctors say he’s a total jerk, the residents hate him, and the other NPs don’t want much to do with him, they say he’s too bossy and he shows off too much. But the patients love him, and Lilah won’t hear a word against him, so I guess he must be all right.”

Credence mulled that over for the rest of his shift. At 4:00 Lilah pulled him into the pharmacist’s office so they could set his hours, go over his contract, and address any lingering questions. He didn't have any lingering questions...not about the job, anyway. So when she asked, he hesitated—she was Dr. Graves’ friend; she might know, but she might also tell him that Credence had asked—and then, with a burst of courage he didn’t know he possessed, he blurted out, “Ron said—he said Dr. Graves never—he never takes an interest in the students—but he came to me, I never approached him, I never pushed him to—to talk to me, or get me a job, or anything—so why would he—?”

“Oh, honey,” Lilah cut him off, “if you have to ask…you already know, don’t you?” She gave him a knowing look. “I’m not going to be your go-between,” she warned him. “We’re not in high school here, it’s stupid. But I _can_ tell you that Graves is a very, _very_ good friend of mine, and I would…not be too happy with someone who hurt him. You feel me, Credence?”

It took him a minute to understand. _Why would she say that? I’m not going to hurt Dr. Graves, at least, I’m not going to do it on purpose, I_ like _him, I really like him, and she just implied he might like me too_ —

 _Oh_.

Lilah, he realized, was giving him what Queenie called a “shovel talk.” And the only reason she would do that…Credence’s heart sped up to a near-inhuman pace…was if she thought there were a chance that he and Dr. Graves might be together. She would not, and Credence _really_ appreciated her for this, talk about her friend behind his back. But she’d drop all the hints necessary, it seemed, to ensure his happiness. And if she thought _Credence_ might make him happy…

Suddenly he couldn’t stop smiling. Lilah noticed, and gave him a mischievous grin in return. She knew he’d got the message. “I hear you loud and clear, boss,” he told her, unable to keep a near-hysterical giggle from escaping. “I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she laughed. “Now go home and get some rest.” Credence obediently turned to go, but Lilah stopped him with a hand on his arm. When he turned back, she said softly, “I’m going to tell you the same thing that he told me…‘Take care of him.’”

His heart swelled. “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

Lilah let him go, and Credence left the pharmacy, feeling as if he were walking on air every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who has not been subjected to the institutionalized torture that is nursing school, here's what they're talking about with "demonstrations" - in Health Assessment class, you have to perform exams on your classmates. While you're learning, though, they break it down into chunks, so like, first you learn to do a skin check, then you learn to do an eye exam, then you learn to check their mental status, etc. In my school, they'd tag you and your partner to demonstrate a particular type of assessment, and you HAD to do it; your grade was based on participation, and if you tried to get out of being the patient they'd mark you down for not being a "team player." My lab partner had the skin check, which meant I basically had to strip down to my bra and gym shorts in front of ten classmates and let my partner pat me down all over like we were at the airport, making notes the whole time on any moles, scars, birthmarks, stretch marks, or whatever else she found. It was...not a fun time. Don't go to nursing school if you like having sound mental health, y'all. Just don't. :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not gonna lie you guys, I'm really, really nervous about this one. (*anxiously pets characters and tells them it'll be all right*) PleasepleasePLEASE go easy on me if you leave feedback.
> 
> Chapter TWs: Hoooo boy guys this one gets messy:  
> -A past rape is discussed during a heated argument, and a survivor plainly (not graphically) states that they were raped  
> -A rape survivor engages in negative self-talk and implies something related to their trauma is their fault  
> -Self-hatred/body hatred (this is tied into discussion of Credence's scars)  
> -Allusions to past child abuse (again: scars)  
> -Systemic disregard of students' mental health 
> 
> See end notes for "spoilers" before reading if you're concerned about any of these.

Graves was happily sharing a tuna-fish sandwich with his favorite pharmacist one sunny Monday afternoon when one of the cardiac RNs popped into the courtyard and announced, “Hey, I’m not your errand boy, Graves, but there’s a pissed-off lady cop waiting in your office.”

Graves and Lilah promptly shared a look. “Tina,” Graves sighed, his good mood popped like a soap bubble. “Ly, could you just go ahead and murder me, before she gets the chance?”

“I could be persuaded,” she said with a knowing little smirk. “But I’m going to need a good reason. Can we get married first so I can claim your life insurance?”

Graves rolled his eyes. “Sure, let’s just stop by the chapel. We can say my last rites while we’re at it.” He stood up and brushed the crumbs from his tie. “All right, I'm off. Remember me as I was.” Lilah rolled her eyes at his dramatics, and Graves shot her a forced smile before he headed for his office, already mentally bracing himself.

It was his fault, really. At the encouragement of his therapist, he’d tried to let his guard down a little more with Credence, with the understanding it didn't need to be rushed. _Try being friends first. Don't try to force intimacy, let it come naturally_ , Dr. Firenze had suggested, an idea with which Graves wholeheartedly agreed. So he’d followed that advice, and for the last couple of weeks they'd talked almost nightly, trading innocent pieces of their history, Graves giving advice about school, Credence entertaining him with stories from the Goldstein house. They spoke of nothing dark or heavy, but the closeness between them was deepening, and Graves knew he wasn’t alone in feeling it.

And so Graves, rather uncharacteristically, had gotten careless. The night before Tina showed up in his office, he did two shots and spent an hour psyching himself up before he took the plunge and texted Credence, **_Okay. If you’re uncomfortable with this at all, you are absolutely free to say no._ **And then, his fingers shaking so hard he could barely type, he sent the fateful second text: **_So how would you feel about having dinner with me next Monday, sweetheart?_ **

He should have called. Should have waited until he knew that what he’d just said would be for Credence’s eyes only. Because the very next message— **What the actual fuck, Graves?** —alerted him to the fact that, sadly, that was not the case.

Now he entered his office ready for battle. “Tina,” he greeted her calmly, as he shut the door behind him. “What brings you to my neck of the woods today?”

She glared at him, arms folded, nostrils flared. A dark-haired dragon in business casual. Graves pitied any suspect who had to endure her interrogation. “You cannot be serious,” she growled. “I just—I have no fucking _words_ , Graves.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of some.” He went behind his desk and sat down. Might as well be comfortable while she ripped him a new one.

Tina paced the length of the office, anger and worry in every line of her face. “First of all, since when do you go for younger men? He’s only twenty-six, did you _know_ that? He’s just starting out! He needs to learn to be on his own, he needs to get through school, the _last_ thing he needs right now is a relationship!”

“Well, I didn’t ask for his birth certificate, so no, I didn’t know his exact age. But yes, I know he’s young and I obviously know he’s in school...Tina, I’m not a complete idiot, I know how it looks.”

“Do you? Because Jesus _Christ_ , Graves, you—you _asked him out!_ What the _hell!_ ”

“Well, yes, that’s generally the first step in starting a new relationship. Unless you’d prefer I take him to bed first?” Graves said dryly.

He was being sarcastic, but it was the wrong thing to say: Tina looked as if her head might explode. She stopped pacing and leaned over his desk, her eyes wild. “Why are you being so casual about this? I told him to back off, because I thought you—no. You know what, no. You want to break the ice, get back into the game, fine! I’ve got half a dozen gay friends at the station you could take home tonight! But leave Credence alone.”

Graves’ heart nearly stopped. Suddenly he felt cold as he realized what Tina was getting at. “Is that what you think?” he asked quietly. “That I just want to ‘get some?’ Do you really think that I haven’t dated for so long because, what, I _missed the bachelor life_? Mary and Joseph, woman, if you want to hurt me you could just shoot me; it’d be a lot quicker and easier for both of us.”

“No, I think you’re afraid,” she shot back. “And I don’t blame you a bit, God knows I would be too, but Credence is absolutely nothing like the guys you usually date and let’s be real, there’s a reason for that! You’re not in love with him, it’s practically impossible—you just don’t want to get hurt again!”

The air seemed to leave the room all at once. Tina’s face went pure white as the meaning of her own words sank in. Graves was thankful he was already sitting down; he didn’t think his legs would hold him up if he’d been standing. “I need you to go,” he said quietly as he stared down at his desk, his voice sounding distant even to his own ringing ears.

“I’m sorry, but just hear me out,” she pleaded. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said it the way I did, but you don’t understand—there’s a lot of things about Credence that you don’t know, he’s been through hell, he—”

Graves’ head jerked up and he raised a hand to stop her. “Do _not_ tell me anything about his past, Tina,” he said firmly. “If there’s anything I need to know about Credence, he’ll tell me himself when he’s damn good and ready. God, what’d you tell him about me, I wonder? ‘Hey Credence, fair warning, someone had Graves without his consent, don't take it personal if he gets a little jumpy in the sack?’”

 _“No!_ ” she squawked indignantly. “Don’t—you can’t just _say_ things like—”

“I’ll say whatever I want! I’m the one who had to endure it, for God’s sake! Now for the last goddamn time, _get out of my office._ I told you, I can’t deal with this today. Just—God, just _go_.”

Tina finally left, slamming the door behind her and leaving Graves to try and figure out just how he was going to get through the rest of his day. For a long time he sat at his desk, trembling with barely-suppressed anger, which was eventually replaced with a melancholy so heavy it felt as if he could sink into the floor. It was one thing to tell himself _you aren’t good enough for Credence_ , but it was quite another to have one of his close friends _confirm_ it. Why did she have to go for the jugular like that? She had to know the effect those words would have on him, and it truly crushed him to think that someone he’d trusted so deeply could turn on him so aggressively. It _hurt_ , and he had a hard time finishing out his workday without walking into walls. When the workday was finally over and he could escape to the lockers for a shower, he was so relieved he damn near cried.

He texted Newt once he’d finished with his shower. He didn't give any details, just warned him that Tina was on the rampage and not to take his side if Newt wanted to preserve their relationship. Moments later, his phone rang. “Are you mental?” came a familiar voice. “‘Don’t take your side?’ Christ in a nightie, Graves! As if I’d let anyone talk to you like that, even Tina!”

“Oh, she already told you?” Graves asked as he sat down on the bench.

“She gave me the gist,” Newt said grimly. “Plenty of choice words in it, too. She, uh...she also mentioned that she deleted your texts to Credence before he could see them.”

Graves rolled his eyes. Typical Tina, taking action first and thinking it through later. “Oh, lovely. ’Course she did. Credence can’t possibly be capable of deciding for himself, can he.”

“I agree, it was a terrible mistake...listen, you know I love Tina, and I understand why she’s concerned. But she is _wrong_ , my friend.”

“Is she?” Graves said bitterly. “I’ve known all along that the proper thing to do is to leave that poor kid alone.”

“Are you _joking_? My God, anyone who's spent a lick of time with Credence Barebone knows that he is absolutely, utterly mad for you. And you can pretend all you like, but I know damn well you feel the same way. You’re _allowed_ to have some happiness, you know. It’s been five years. You have punished yourself far beyond long enough.”

“You don’t know—”

“Percival Colin Graves, I swear on all things holy and profane, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘you don’t know the worst of it,’ I will cancel my next class and come over there to knock some sense into you. You think I don’t know what that monster did to you? I was there, or don’t you remember!”

Graves felt his face turning hot. Newt had indeed been there on _that day._ If there was anyone who did know the worst of it, well, it was definitely him. “I know, Newt. I do. And you know I—I’ll never forget what you did for me, and I don’t mean to say you weren’t there, because you _were,_ and—”

“I know what you mean,” Newt gently cut him off. “And I _also_ know that you’re still blaming yourself for what happened afterwards.”

“Yeah, well, I’m to blame, aren’t I?”

“No, you are not. It’s all on him." Newt sighed heavily. "Graves...please, old friend, if you hear nothing else I say, hear this: you deserve a soft place to land. I’ve spent time with Credence, and trust me, he’s the absolute dictionary definition of it. If you think there’s even the slightest chance you’ll be happy with him, take that chance and run with it.”

Graves knew he was right. But that didn’t make it any easier in practice. “God, I’m a mess,” he groaned, letting his head tall back against the lockers. “I have to see Dr. Firenze in an hour and I’m already— _fuck_ —”

“Graves,” Newt cut in, “go see him.”

“Who, Dr. Firenze?”

“No, Credence. He’s still there at the pharmacy, isn’t he? Go see him. And Lilah. They’ll make you feel better. If I could come over there I would, but I can’t...so hang up now, and go see them.”

Graves didn’t want to—Credence was the last person whom he wanted to see him like this—but he’d learned the hard way that Newt was usually right about these sorts of things. So he did as Newt said, stopping along the way to pick up two dozen cookies from the cafe because he figured he could always use that as an excuse to be there. 

When he reached the pharmacy he found it blessedly devoid of customers, and when Lilah saw him her face lit up. “Oh, man. My techs are gonna love you,” she said when she saw the cookie box.

“Anything for my girl," he said with a forced smile.

If Lilah noticed he was feeling off, she was kind enough to not call attention to it. “Don’t say that. The whole place already thinks we’re banging,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Then she lowered her voice as she added, “And I think there might be someone here who you _really_ don’t want to think you’re taken.”

Right on cue, Credence popped out of the back room, carrying a huge tote of medication, which he nearly dropped when he saw Graves. “Oh! Hello, Dr. Graves,” he said, a lovely pink flush coloring those pale cheeks.

Graves had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling like a teenage girl. “Hey, Credence. Just wanted to see how you were settling in. Also, I brought you guys a little something.” He gestured to the box in Lilah’s hands.

Credence set down the tote and came over to peek into the box. “Ooh, cookies!” he said happily, and Graves’ heart fluttered with joy. Credence _deserved_ to be happy, damn it.

“Thought that’d make you smile. Hey, did you lose your phone last night?” he asked, as if he were merely curious.

“No. I had to let Tina borrow it for a bit while she was looking for hers,” Credence said absently as he fished out a pink-frosted cookie. He took a bite of the treat and, to Graves’ absolute delight, let out a little sigh of pleasure. “Mmm. Thank you, Dr. Graves. I think this is just what we needed.”

“Sure is,” Lilah agreed, sending a knowing look in Graves’ direction.

“Glad to be of service,” Graves said automatically, unable to tear his eyes from the little streak of pink frosting on Credence’s upper lip.

Credence, thankfully, remained oblivious to the fact he was being watched. “I should get back to work,” he said, even as he continued to stand there and nibble at his cookie. “Those totes won’t unpack themselves.”

“Are you sure? Can’t you just do a _Mary Poppins_?” Graves teased him, and then started to sing off-key. “ _Just a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down…_ ”

Credence promptly burst out laughing, and Graves stopped singing to enjoy the sound. “It does, you’re right,” Credence agreed when he could breathe again, holding up the last bite of his pink cookie as evidence.

Credence, Graves was pleased to note, seemed much different, much more at ease, when he was given a job to do and then told he was good at doing it. Graves loved seeing that side of him, that kind of gentle almost-confidence. He glimpsed, in that moment, the man Credence could be, if he were given the right kind of encouragement and reassurance. And he _liked_ it. 

“I’ve got to go,” he admitted reluctantly, “but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Great,” Credence said with a warm smile. Graves privately thought that if he could harness the power of that smile and bottle it up, it would be the best antidepressant on the market.

Newt had been right, Graves reflected as he left the pharmacy. Seeing Lilah and Credence _had_ done him some good. He was still dreading the things he knew would come up in therapy today…thank you very much for that, Tina…but he didn’t feel as awful as he had when he’d first called Newt, and for now, he’d take that as a win.

~

Credence was surprised to find Queenie in his basement apartment after work, with a plate of something that smelled absolutely delicious in the microwave and a very serious look on her face. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Don’t go upstairs unless you gotta,” she warned him. “Tina's in an _awful_ mood. I think she had a fight with Newt or something. Jacob’s upstairs now, trying to get her to calm down a little. We’re taking it in shifts.”

“And you volunteered to be my welcoming party?” Credence laughed, already knowing the answer. Queenie had a giant soft spot for him when they first met, and it never shrank. “I feel loved,” he said, just to make her smile.

“Good.” She put the plate of food in front of him and waited until he was halfway through to ask, with a knowing smile, “So…how’s it going with Dr. McDreamy?”

Credence choked on his dinner. “Uhh. What?”

“Oh, I saw that text from him when Tina had your phone last night! He calls you ‘sweetheart?’ That’s so cute,” she gushed. “Did you say yes? Please told me you said yes.”

“I—well—wait, what? What text?” Credence fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through yesterday’s texts. Graves had not called him “sweetheart” yesterday—and Credence _knew_ when he did; he’d locked and screencapped every single one of those texts—and he certainly hadn’t asked him out.

“Lemme see.” Queenie grabbed the phone and scrolled through it hastily. Her perky smile quickly melted into a confused frown. “Hmm. I coulda sworn…no, I _did_ see it, I never forget a flirty text, he said, ‘How would you feel about having dinner with me next Monday, sweetheart?’”

Credence choked on air and grabbed for his phone. “Maybe my phone glitched and deleted them?” he guessed. _Oh, please let it be true._

“Maybe,” Queenie said slowly. And then her eyes went wide. “Oh, Cree. Tina doesn’t want you seeing Dr. Graves, does she.”

“She doesn’t, but what does that have to do with—” Credence froze mid-sentence as he realized what Queenie was getting at. “No, that’s not...Tina wouldn’t...she wouldn’t delete my messages, or snoop in my phone... _no_...” For a moment he reeled, torn between anger at Tina and unrestrained delight that Dr. Graves had, according to Queenie, _asked him out._ “Queenie,” he breathed. “Queenie, what do I _do_? I…I _like_ him,” he said softly, and oh, it felt good to say it out loud, to someone he knew would understand!

It was true they'd gotten closer over the last couple of weeks, but Credence couldn’t pluck up the courage to act on the information that Lilah had subtly passed him, and make a move on Dr. Graves. He knew she meant well and she wouldn’t lie to him, but he just wasn’t brave enough to take that first step. But now…

Queenie laid her hand over his. “I know, honey. Anyone could see that just from your face right now,” she said with a smile. “When do you see him again?”

“I work Friday after class, but he doesn’t always come to the pharmacy. But I’ll see him on Saturday. We always have coffee after clinical.” Credence thought for a moment. “Hey, do you think he’d mind if…well…there’s a frozen yogurt place not too far from the hospital…I mean, I could ask him to go with me…”

Queenie let out a little squeal of delight. “Oh, Cree, that’s a _fantastic_ idea! I bet he’d just about pass out on the floor if you made the first move! You’re so shy, he’d never expect it…and I betcha it turns him on like crazy.”

Credence blushed at the thought of _turning him on,_ but couldn't hold back a smile. Queenie always made him feel better, and he told her so. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said honestly.

“Aww, it’s no trouble, honey. Now…can I stay down here with you until Teeny cools off a bit? I can help you study,” she offered, and Credence gladly took her up on it; he had a mountain of reading to do and he knew from experience that talking it over with someone would help the concepts sink in better. Queenie never minded hearing about his classes, in fact she liked science and anatomy just as much as he did, so they curled up on the love seat and read together until it was time to sleep.

~

The day of the dreaded chest assessment demonstration came. Credence hid in the student locker room and waited until he was alone to change into his soft workout shorts and— _gulp_ —loose-fitting tank top. So far, he’d been supremely lucky that he could get away with wearing his zip-up workout jacket over both. Today, of course, was different.

He stood there helplessly staring into the mirror, hating every angle and line of his thin body, most of all the scars he knew would be visible the moment he took off his shirt. He shivered and wrapped his warmup jacket more securely around him. He would have paid all the money in his very much depleted bank account if he could have hidden those scars from his classmates.

He managed to hold up well enough during the lab prep talk in the classroom, still zipped safely into his jacket with absolutely zero eyes on him. But when it came time for him and Neville to prepare for the demonstration in the simulation lab upstairs, the panic returned in full force, and Credence broke down the minute he was settled in the hospital bed. They were going to see it, see _him_ , and—

“Hey man, you okay? What’s the matter?” Neville helped him sit up. His eyes combed over Credence, taking in his hunched posture, and the way he was clutching his jacket tight around his body. “Oh, you don’t want to dress down, is that it?"

“I’m sorry,” Credence choked out. “It’s not you, I—I just—I have…scars,” he finally managed. “My back, I…I got hurt a long time ago, and…and you can tell.”

Before Neville could respond to _that_ , Dr. Scamander popped his head between the curtains. “Are we ready, boys?” he said cheerfully, and then took in the sight of Neville standing over Credence, who was still curled up in a teary ball on the bed. “Uh-oh. What’s the matter?” he asked as he slipped into the cubicle.

The sight of their teacher shocked some sense back into Credence, and he forced himself to uncurl, sit on the bed normally. With a tremendous effort he managed to breathe normally. “I’m ready when you are,” he told Neville. His voice trembled, and he could tell from Neville's skeptical look that he had fooled exactly no one. “Really. I’m okay,” he insisted. “Let’s get it over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dr. Scamander chuckled...but his eyes locked on Credence's when Neville turned around to pick up his stethoscope. _You're okay?_ his face asked, and Credence nodded silently. He would be brave, he resolved as the rest of the class filed in. He would be strong. He would _not_ cry.

The demonstration only lasted about ten minutes, but it felt to Credence as if it lasted a lifetime. Neville was very good; he asked permission before every touch, explained every action, and even went so far as to stand to the side when he listened to the lung sounds so that Credence could see him. He seemed to have figured out that the scars hadn’t been put there by accident. Credence tried very hard not to think about what that meant and just be thankful that Neville knew not to be rough with him. The percussion was the worst, the sensation of Neville's fingers tapping at his back nearly making him cry out—but once again he swallowed the fear. He would not cry again, he would _not—_

Eventually, it ended. The minute class was over, Credence fled to the locker room to change into his normal clothes, dodging questions from Dr. Scamander and Neville on the way. He couldn't go home and face the others just yet; he didn't want to give them (especially Tina) a reason to think he was weak. Instead he took refuge in one of the “rest spots” around the nursing building, a little alcove with a worn, squashy fake-leather couch. It was shielded mostly from view of the elevators and the other classrooms by a decorative latticework shelf, so he felt secure enough to curl up on the couch and press his face into his knees, finally relaxing into the unhappiness that had eaten him up all through class.

He shuddered at the memory of lifting his shirt over his head, the feeling of Neville's eyes on his scarred back. A choked sob escaped as a shiver ran through him. _Now they know_ , he thought desperately, _they know how weak I am, that I couldn't fight her off, that I—_ He let out a low moan. Why oh why couldn't it be voluntary, why did they _have_ to humiliate him like that?

He hadn't heard footsteps approaching, but suddenly the couch dipped as if someone were sitting next to him, and he thought he could smell coffee and cinnamon…and then... “Credence? Are you okay? What happened, did someone hurt you?”

Even in pain like this, Credence’s heart leaped at the prospect of time spent with Dr. Graves. He lifted his face and loosened his grip on his knees. “Hi,” he said, his throat tight from the effort of not crying. “What are you doing here?”

“Speaking to the DNP graduating class, but that’s not important right now.” Dr. Graves very gently took both of Credence’s hands in his. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? I’ll help you in any way I can,” he promised.

The old instinct to hide his pain rose up, and Credence looked down at their joined hands. “It’s nothing,” he lied.

“Not if it’s made you this unhappy, it’s not.” Dr. Graves brushed his thumbs rhythmically across the backs of Credence’s hands, the touch so calming it was almost hypnotic. “Tell me,” he coaxed gently. “I promise, whatever it is, I won’t be angry, and I won’t judge you. You can tell me anything.”

Credence swallowed hard. “We, um. We had…the demonstrations today…” He barely managed to get the next words out: “I h-had to t-take my shirt off…in f-front of ev-everyone, and…and…”

“And it upset you because of what you told me? The scars, from your old injury?” Dr. Graves prompted him.

Credence nodded. “They—they _saw_ ,” he forced out, and then choked with the effort of trying not to cry.

Far from being put off, Dr. Graves immediately pulled him into a tender embrace. “Oh, Credence...I’m so sorry. But it’s all right now, it’s over. Oh, now—” Credence made a last effort to choke back his tears, but Dr. Graves was having none of that. “You can cry if you need to. I’ve got you. You’re safe now, it’ll be all right.”

He rubbed soothing circles across Credence’s back, heedless of the scars that he _must_ be able to feel through Credence's t-shirt, and that in the end was what did it. Credence gave in and, for once, allowed himself to completely fall apart. He cried for what felt like hours, and Dr. Graves held him close, tenderly stroking his hair and murmuring, "That's it, sweetheart, let it out. I've got you now, you're safe. I know it hurts, but I’m here now, I’ll take care of you. There, just let it out, that’s it...”

It seemed to take an age for the tears to dry up, but eventually they did and, inevitably, the shame began to set in. “I’m sorry,” was the first thing Credence said when he could control himself.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Graves said, drawing back just enough to brush a damp stray curl from Credence’s face. There was no judgement in his face, only tender concern. “Oh, sweetheart...you really needed a cry, didn’t you? Do you maybe feel a bit better now that you’ve let all that out?”

Credence considered it for a moment and was surprised to find that he did. He couldn't remember the last time he'd allowed himself to cry like that, let alone the last time someone held him while he broke apart. “I...I think I do, yeah.” 

“Good.” Dr. Graves cupped his palm gently around Credence’s flushed, tear-stained cheek. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would it help if I just sat with you for a while?”

Credence shook his head. “You don’t have to stay,” he said, his voice hoarse from crying for so long. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being difficult, I just—”

“No,” Dr. Graves cut him off gently, “no, you are not being unreasonable. You were in pain and you reacted accordingly.” He hesitated, and then said very carefully, “Credence, you can come to me for anything. You know that, don’t you?”

Oh, Credence _so_ wanted to believe him! He hesitated a little—what if _anything_ didn't include what he wanted most?—and then asked shyly, “Could you...hug me again, please?”

Dr. Graves’ eyes lit up and he held his arms out to Credence, who wasted no time in falling against him. Once they were comfortably locked together Dr. Graves reached up to stroke Credence’s hair, nails gently scratching his scalp and drawing forth a sigh of pleasure. “I can do this any time you like, you know," he offered. "Hold you just like this, whenever you need me to...you only have to ask.”

Credence was so relaxed he couldn’t bring himself to feel even a twinge of shame for the soft, quivery noise that left his throat. “Really?”

“Any time you like,” Dr. Graves repeated firmly, and continued stroking and tugging Credence’s hair until he was nearly boneless, his head resting in the crook of Dr. Graves’ neck, his eyes fluttering as if he were deeply asleep. “That’s it, just relax,” Dr. Graves murmured soothingly, one hand caressing the back of Credence’s neck and making him feel deliciously vulnerable. “You're safe now, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

 _Yes, you certainly do_ , Credence thought hazily. He felt, _knew_ , that their relationship was forever changed, that something vitally important had just occurred. They would, sooner or later, have to talk; he understood that.

But right now, Credence just wanted to be held, and Dr. Graves wanted to hold him, and that was _everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanations for TWs:
> 
> -While Graves and Tina are arguing about his budding relationship with Credence, Tina insinuates that Graves only likes Credence because he doesn't see Credence as a threat. She tries to tell him about Credence's past, and he cuts her off, and asks if she told Credence that someone "had him without his consent." Throughout the whole exchange Tina repeatedly ignores Graves telling her to leave, implies that both he and Credence are too "damaged" to be in love, and generally follows the How To Not Talk To A Rape Survivor guide. She's not doing it out of malice, but it happens nonetheless.
> 
> -While talking to Newt on the phone, Graves references a past rape again, and implies that he is to blame for the fallout. He doesn't blame himself for the assault, just the way he reacted to it. Newt very firmly sets him straight.
> 
> -Credence is essentially forced by the school to take his shirt off for a clinical demonstration. Everyone involved is very gentle with Credence and there's no bullying, the angst is pretty much all driven by his own low self-esteem. Afterwards he breaks down, and Graves comforts him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been trying to make some kind of moodboard/aesthetic for this (mainly as an excuse to look at pictures of my boys, not gonna lie) but, given my lack of skill with anything other than powerpoint, it's going slowly. :P For now, [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/CCEYbk4BmWh/) is how I've been picturing Credence (because I will stan long-haired Credence forever, dammit) and...well. We all know what Graves looks like, lol, but here, have a [shirtless Colin Farrell](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/fwXAPiLLZNzZu82VerqIWvrTcpE/fit-in/1024x1024/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2013/06/04/661/n/1922398/57c3c35a0a59dea9_FFN_Farrell_Colin_FF6_FF9_EXC_060313_51119660/i/Colin-Farrell-kept-his-hair-out-his-eyes.jpg) anyway, just. y'know. for reference. ;)
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Brief description of Credence's former crush pressuring him to do drugs  
> -There are some vague allusions to Credence's abusive childhood, but nothing graphic  
> -Tina still has no chill and tries, again, to get Credence to back off from dating Graves*
> 
> *I'm not sure that NEEDS to be a TW honestly, but to me the way she's acting here is just this side of controlling for my comfort level, so I'm gonna tag it as a possible trigger just to be safe.

Holding Credence was a near-religious experience. _I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, have this_ , Graves thought in pure disbelief as Credence lay peaceful and content in his arms. _Oh Credence, my heart…you sweet thing, don’t you know I’ll never come close to deserving you?_

Credence apparently did not know that, because he let Graves hold him for what felt like hours, until the sun sank behind the trees and the air grew cool and they _had_ to go home. Few words passed between them as Graves walked Credence back to his car…but as they walked, Credence grew bold again and slipped his hand into Graves’, who thought his heart may well explode at the contact.

He sent Seraphina an apology text when he got home, because he’d run off on a tip from Newt instead of addressing the DNP class of 2018. She accepted his apology, but it didn’t stop her from teasing him mercilessly. But in the end she did tell him she was happy for him…and, like everyone else, cautioned him to be careful.

The thing was, he reflected as he lay in bed later, Credence had made it painfully clear that as far as threat levels went, he was about a -10. Forget taking advantage, it would likely make the kid’s brain short out if Graves just asked Credence to top him. Imagining Credence’s response to that request made him laugh…and then the laughter died away as he realized just how hot it would be, seeing Credence lose what remained of his inhibition.

Graves let his eyes drift closed as desire welled up inside him. He didn’t do this often anymore…but his hand slipped under the sheets as he imagined riding Credence: the boy spread out in his bed, long dark hair fanned out across the sheets, eyes fluttering and lips parted in bliss…that smooth, unbelievably soft pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his long, slender body tensing beautifully under Graves’ as they pushed each other closer to the edge…

It was a lovely image, but not _enough_. He imagined laying Credence out in his in bed and pressing soft, wet kisses to every inch of that silky skin. _Is this what you like?_ he’d murmur against Credence's skin, nuzzling against the softer bits of his flat stomach. _Tell me how to make you feel good, sweet boy. I want to make love to you._ Imagining Credence's answering whimpers sent flutters of pleasure across his skin. He let his hand move faster as he imagined how Credence would get impatient and flip them over so he could grind down against Graves.

 _You shouldn’t tease me like that, Dr. Graves_ , he’d whisper, and the thought of Credence talking to him like that—his voice seductive and playful instead of soft and nervous—was incredibly arousing. _I want to have you_ , he imagined Credence saying, breath tickling his sweat-damp neck, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. _I want to touch you. I want you, Graves, please_.

The images came faster, clearer...Credence running his hands down Graves' body, his dark eyes sparkling with newly-discovered sexual confidence, lips quirking into a smile as he realized just how much power he had. _I'm going to make you come_ _,_ imaginary Credence whispered, and ground down hard, drawing desperate moans from them both. Then...what if Credence moved downward, parted Graves’ thighs with those soft hands...what if he took Graves’ hands and put them where he wanted them, made Graves touch him—and then the last of those carefully-crafted inhibitions fell away, for both of them, as Credence arranged them the way he wanted, gently pulled Graves’ legs up and around his waist, hands braced on either side of Graves’ shoulders, and stared at him through those hypnotic dark eyes as he pushed his way inside—

He came with a rush of pleasure so intense it almost frightened him, Credence’s name on his lips and his heart going at a frantic speed. 

~

Credence couldn’t believe his own boldness. 

He and Dr. Graves had not seen each other since Credence had melted down and cried in his arms on Wednesday. They hadn’t directly spoken of it either; Dr. Graves opened their few text conversations with “are you all right?” but didn’t push for any further information if Credence said he was okay. He didn’t seem to want to talk about…well, _anything._ He was too preoccupied, apparently, with making sure he didn’t say anything that _might_ upset Credence.

Credence, needless to say, was unbelievably frustrated with all of that. So he took matters into his own hands, and on Friday night, he texted Dr. Graves before he slept, **We need to talk. Can we go somewhere besides the Macusa coffee shop tomorrow? There’s a little frozen yogurt shop on 14 mile. Meet me there at 4:00.** And Dr. Graves, to Credence’s nerve-wracking delight, responded with a single word: **_Yes._ **

After clinicals he showered in the student lockers and dressed carefully, in an outfit that Queenie had chosen for him (jeans from H&M, which he only realized as he put them on were from the women’s side— _Oh, Queenie_ —and a clingy black t-shirt with a low V-neck). He didn’t think he looked _that_ good, but when Dr. Graves saw him, his eyes got big. All he said, however, was an infuriatingly polite “You look well.”

When they’d gotten their yogurt and settled into a booth (Credence had insisted on paying—“for once,” he’d said firmly, to Dr. Graves’ apparent intense amusement), Credence waited a good few minutes, during which time Dr. Graves went from politely amused to obviously nervous, before he stated as calmly and clearly as he could, “Just so you’re aware, this is a date.”

He hadn’t been trying to make Dr. Graves choke on his frozen yogurt, but that was just what he did. Credence watched, chewing his lip to keep from speaking again, his heart pounding, as Dr. Graves swallowed, dragged a paper napkin across his face and used another to dry his streaming eyes, gave a few more weak coughs, and then said in a slightly strangled-sounding voice, “Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?” Credence repeated. That was not the reply he’d expected.

“Okay,” Dr. Graves confirmed, and suddenly his face seemed to radiate with the purest joy Credence had ever seen. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how happy you’ve made me,” he said, reaching out a hand across the table, palm-up, a clear invitation that Credence immediately took. “When you said to meet you…God, how I hoped this was what you wanted.”

“And now that you know it is?” Credence prompted, his heart skipping.

Dr. Graves let his eyes meet Credence’s across the table, and Credence was genuinely, deeply stunned to see the hope, the _want_ , written clear across his face. His hand tightened ever-so-slightly around Credence’s as he said, “I want to take you out, sweetheart. I want to take you to dinner, and I want to hold your hand across the table just like this. I want to be with you, every minute I can.” He let out a shaky laugh. “God, it feels good to say that out loud.”

“It feels nice to hear it, too,” Credence admitted with a shy smile.

“Good, good. That’s good.” Dr. Graves looked immensely relieved. He leaned across the table and rested his other hand on top of their joined ones, so that Credence’s hand was safely cradled in both of his. “Where do you want to go from here, love?” he asked, his voice somehow tender and eager at the same time.

Credence wasn’t entirely sure. He usually didn’t quite get this far with people he liked; his experience was very limited. With Queenie happily playing wingman he had gone to crowded GSA college clubrooms, local “safe space” community dances for LGBT young adults, and on one memorable occasion a gay bar, which had been an utter disaster. While he’d managed to spark interest in some of the local boys his age with his apparently very appealing face, they ran the other way when they realized the depth of his trauma.

His first kiss had been at the fateful gay bar: a smooth-talking college boy had lulled him into a false sense of security on the dance floor, lured him to the men’s room with promises of “having fun,” made him dizzy with a passionate kiss, and then tried to pressure him into doing some kind of ecstasy-like drugs. He’d fled the scene in a panic, begged Queenie to take him home, and refused to ever set foot in one of those clubs again.

At any rate he had never experienced true romantic intimacy, emotional or physical, before now. Dr. Graves was the only man Credence had ever spent any time with who truly paid him attention, who seemed to only care about him more after realizing that he was damaged. For all his lingering anxiety, Credence _wanted_ to let people in, to be touched and held and kissed and loved—he just didn’t know how, and no one wanted to teach him…except, it seemed, for Dr. Graves.

Credence didn’t know what came next, in other words. But he was more than ready to find out.

“I want to see you again. Outside of work. Like this,” he told Dr. Graves, who promptly lit up as if Christmas had come early and he’d been given the best gift of his life.

“Well, good, we’re on the same page,” he said, his eyes sparkling with something new and exciting that sent chills of pleasure down Credence’s spine. “I guess we know what we’re going to do, don’t we?”

“I guess we do,” Credence agreed, his heart fluttering in his chest. And he _didn’t_ know, not really. But Dr. Graves did, and he decided that for right now, that was enough.

~

Monday night at quarter to seven found Credence standing anxiously in the doorway of the basement waiting for Dr. Graves to pick him up for their date _._ Queenie had helped him get ready, insisting that he wear a dinner jacket and, for some impossible-to-fathom reason, eyeliner in a warm, soft shade of brown. She said Dr. Graves would “melt through the floor” when he saw that.

Dr. Graves did not, in fact, melt through the floor when he came to pick up Credence for their date. (He did, however, let out a low whistle of approval when he saw the eyeliner.) “How do you feel about meeting some new people tonight?” he asked when they reached their destination. “The people who own and operate this restaurant are good friends of mine, and I think you’ll like them. And because it’s a Monday night, the place will be practically dead. Nice and quiet.”

“Okay,” Credence readily agreed. He didn’t mind people; you kind of had to be all right with strangers in order to work in medical. He did appreciate the promise of “nice and quiet,” but he hoped that didn’t translate to “private booth in a fancy restaurant.”

Far from being terrifyingly fancy, however, the place Dr. Graves had chosen was barely a step above a diner. He led Credence straight up to the counter and nudged him into a comfortable, high-backed bar stool. The cooks hadn’t noticed when they came in, but now one of them looked up from his work and grinned broadly when he saw them. “It’s my big brother! How the hell are you, man!” he said happily, in a thick Irish accent. He reached across the counter to offer a loud, smacking handshake. “You’re lookin’ decent…oh, _well_!” His eyes landed on Credence. “With a pretty little thing like this with you, I can damn well see why!”

Dr. Graves laughed and pulled his hand away from the man, only to wrap a protective arm around Credence’s shoulders. “Ease up there, Seamus. Credence, this is Seamus Finnegan, my brother-in-law. Seamus, this is Credence, and I’ll thank you not to tease him half to death.”

Seamus bestowed an abrasive handshake-high-five hybrid on Credence as well. “Nice to meet ya, kid. Now, c’mere I tell you—” He leaned in and said in a conspiratorial tone, “You ought to know before you get any further with this one, he is absolutely _terrible_ at planning trips.”

“Oh, no. Credence really doesn’t need to hear this,” Dr. Graves broke in, but he was laughing and shaking his head playfully, only pretending to be embarrassed.

“No, actually, I think I do.” Credence shot him a quick look, a silent _is this okay_ , and when Dr. Graves gave him an encouraging little smile, he turned back to Seamus expectantly.

“There’s a good lad,” Seamus said with a wicked grin, and proceeded to tell the hysterical tale of how, fourteen years ago at Seamus’ bachelor party, Dr. Graves had first gotten the whole party lost and stuck in a tiny Belgian town, and then tried to go home with someone whom he had picked up in a pub…only to get an empty gun held to his head, as it turned out the guy was running some sort of tourist-robbing scam with his ex, but it was all right, because—

“—what they don’t realize is that our boy Graves, see, his best mate’s a cop and she taught him all her moves,” Seamus said, laughing so hard he could barely finish the story. “So he shoots a blank in the bastard’s face, runs back to our hotel like Satan’s after him, and when he finds us he screams so loud he could be heard back in the States—‘ _We gotta get out of fuckin’ Bruges!_ ’”

Credence burst out laughing at the thought of calm, collected Dr. Graves running around Belgium, screaming and swearing and getting into trouble. “Well, did you?” he asked, and Dr. Graves just mournfully shook his head, which only made Credence laugh harder. “How long were you there?”

“A week,” Dr. Graves said with a dramatic sigh. “And I haven’t been back since, I’ll tell you that.”

All told, it was a perfect date, better than Credence had dared to imagine. The food was delicious, the atmosphere homey, and he really liked that they weren’t surrounded by strangers. Seamus respected that it was indeed a date and mostly left them alone, but couldn’t resist popping over now and then, which Credence really didn’t mind. He was fun, and friendly, and seemed to take it as the accomplishment of his life when Credence said he liked the way he made fish and chips.

Best of all, it didn’t take long for Credence to notice that Dr. Graves ate left-handed so he could keep one hand on Credence at all times—wrapped bracingly around his shoulders, lightly rubbing his back, occasionally reaching up to stroke his hair. And every now and then he’d check in: “Still okay, love? Not feeling anxious at all, are you? We can leave if you need to.”

“No, I’m all right,” Credence assured him. And he _was_. It was impossible to feel anxious or scared in such a comforting, homey place, with Dr. Graves’ sturdy presence beside him, his touch keeping Credence feeling safe and grounded.

At one point Credence couldn’t stop himself from asking Dr. Graves, “Did you _know_ that Tina had deleted the messages, so that I wouldn’t know you asked me out?”

“Yeah,” Dr. Graves admitted quietly, his eyes on his plate. “She, uh. She may or may not have come bursting into my office to ask what the hell I was thinking, which…I have to admit I could see her point. But then she had the nerve to say there were ‘things I should know,’ about you, and I just—” He looked up, saw the pained shock on Credence’s face and quickly said, “Oh no, I didn’t mean—it’s all right, I didn’t let her tell me. And you don’t have to, either.”

Credence looked at him for a moment, startled. “You don’t want to know?” he asked, torn between anger at Tina and relief that Dr. Graves wasn’t going to press him for information.

“Only if you wish to tell me, darling,” Dr. Graves said soothingly, reaching out and brushing a stray curl from Credence’s eyes. “I only need to know what _you_ want me to know. And if you want to hang it all and just tell me you’re a fae creature come to steal my heart…well, as lovely as you are, I’d believe it,” he said with a teasing smile.

 _Oh._ Mingled pleasure and comfort bloomed deep in Credence’s stomach, lighting him up from the inside, melting away the remaining anger. “Right now I just want you to know that I like you,” he said, and was rewarded with a soft kiss to the temple of his head.

They had finished their meal and were sitting there just looking at each other, contentedly wrapped up in one another’s arms (Seamus thankfully had the good sense to not comment on that) when a door in the back slammed. Both Credence and Dr. Graves jumped, but when a gruff-looking man in his seventies appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, Dr. Graves relaxed again. “Reuben,” he said, his voice filled with familial warmth, as he got to his feet. “God, I’ve missed you.”

The old man’s scowl quickly gave way to a fond smile as he swept through the kitchen and came out around the counter to pull Dr. Graves into a bear hug. “You all right, boy?” he asked in an accent as thick as Seamus’. “You’re being good to yourself?”

“Trying to,” Dr. Graves admitted with a sheepish smile. He turned back to the counter and held out a hand, and Credence cautiously slid off the stool to join them. “Credence, this is my friend Reuben, he owns the restaurant. I’ve known him since my family moved here.”

Credence offered a shy smile and a handshake, and was relieved to find that Reuben shook hands much more gently than Seamus. For the first time all evening, however, he felt a little nervous. Clearly this was someone important to Dr. Graves; that was intimidating in and of itself, but…did he _know_ that Dr. Graves was gay, and that this was a date? Credence had learned that older adults couldn’t be assumed to be as in-tune with such things as people his age; what if he accidentally outed Dr. Graves, or started a family fight of some kind?

As it happened he had nothing to worry about. “Reuben, this is Credence, I met him at Macusa. He’s, uh…” Once again, to Credence’s immense shock, Dr. Graves was actually blushing. “He’s my…my…uh. We’re dating,” he finally spit out, nervously running a hand through his hair.

Reuben’s eyes went wide. “Oh, is that so?” He looked Credence over and must have liked what he saw, because he smiled warmly and said, “Well, you look all right to me. Percival never brings his boys round here, you know. You must be something special if he wanted us to meet you.”

“He is,” Dr. Graves said softly, shooting Credence a look that made his heart melt...and...could it be true...was Dr. Graves _blushing?_ Credence had definitely never seen _that_ before, and it would be a lie to say he didn't find it extremely flattering.

“Then you’re one of ours now, Credence. You come by anytime you like.” Reuben nodded to Dr. Graves as he added, “Just take good care of him, will you son? He’s a hearty one, our Percival, but he needs a bit of looking after.”

“Ah, don’t tell him that now,” Dr. Graves complained, while Credence stood there, utterly stunned, still stuck on _one of ours now_. “I’d actually prefer he still like me at the end of this date, if it’s all the same to you.”

Rebuen chuckled at that and reached out to pull Dr. Graves in for another hug. “You be gentle with yourself, lad,” he urged him quietly. “We’d like to see you around here again.”

“I’m fine, Reuben, really,” Dr. Graves insisted, but when he pulled back—was it Credence’s imagination, or were the man’s eyes a little wet? “Now I really do need to get him home, so I’ll just settle up and—”

“You try to pay here, boy, I’ll throw you out for insulting me,” Reuben warned him, but there was a smile behind the growl. “Just make sure to invite me when you make an honest man of this one, yeah?”

Dr. Graves _really_ blushed at that. “It’s only our second date, you know,” he muttered defensively.

“Oh really? Second date and you’re already introducing him to the family? See, now you’re just proving my point,” Reuben said with a knowing grin. 

“See if we come here again,” Dr. Graves shot back, very obviously playing at being put-out, which only made Reuben and Seamus laugh harder and tease him even more.

The drive back to the Goldstein house was spent in comfortable silence, with Dr. Graves driving one-handed as often as he could in order to hold onto Credence. Only when they were back and in the driveway did he turn to Credence and say, “So, was that all right, love? I thought you’d be more comfortable if we went somewhere a little more home-like.”

“It was perfect,” Credence assured him. “I love your family. Seamus is fun, and it seems like Reuben really cares about you.”

“He does. He was…” Dr. Graves let out a heavy sigh. “He was my dad’s best mate, while Dad was alive. He's always treated me and Morgan like his own…Morgan’s my little sister, you’ll meet her next time…” He hesitated a moment, tongue flicking nervously over his lips. “Listen, you…you said a while back that you don’t like casual dating. Well, neither do I…Credence, I don’t want this, _us_ , to just be a lark, you know?”

“I don’t, either,” Credence admitted. His heart sped up. Dr. Graves looked so anxious, and Credence realized with a jolt, _he’s nervous. He likes me as much as I like him._ “I want to be with you, Dr. Graves,” he said, and his heart skipped when the man’s eyes lit up _._

“I’m so glad, sweetheart,” Dr. Graves breathed, openly relieved. “Oh, I’m so glad. Just—one thing—” He gently raised Credence’s hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. “Sorry, I had to do that,” he said with a playful little smile, upon seeing Credence’s inevitable blush. “Just, ah—you maybe should stop calling me by my title, if we’re going to—you know, really do this?”

“Oh!” Credence drew back, embarrassed; of course he should have known better. “Do you want me to just call you by your last name, then? Everyone else does.” When Dr. Graves didn't seem to love the idea Credence impulsively said, “Dr. Piquery calls you—whenever she brings you up on skills days or whatever, she, um—she sometimes refers to you as Percy.” In response to Dr. Graves’ questioning look, he added shyly, “It just sounds… _softer_ …than your full name.”

“Oh…you like that, do you? All right then, sweetheart. ‘Percy’ it is. Now, let’s get you inside.” They went to the outside basement door, and Credence was on the verge of asking him to come in when he said, “I think I’ll stay out for now. Tina might be home, and I’d like to not ruin our date with a shouting match.” He shot Credence a rueful grin. “We’ll have an uphill battle there, you know.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

Percy took Credence’s hand and pressed it to his chest, so Credence could feel the the flutter of his heart under his palm, then reached out with his free hand and very gently cupped Credence’s cheek in his palm. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured tenderly. He stroked his thumb lightly across Credence’s cheekbone and then, with a regretful sigh, he let his hand drop. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you like that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I see you looking at my mouth, sweetheart. And believe me, I’d love to give you what you want, but…” He hesitated a little. The hand pressing Credence's over his heart tensed, fingers tightening uncertainly around Credence’s wrist. “May I ask a tremendous favor of you?”

“Anything you want,” Credence said immediately.

“Can we…take this slow?” Percy asked tentatively. “Only I…well. I haven’t been with someone in a while, and I want to do it _right_ with you. I don’t want to jump into the physical side too fast and end up making us both uncomfortable, you understand?”

“It’s okay, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Credence admitted shyly. “So, yeah. I kind of wanted to go slow too.” He _was_ a little disappointed—he would have dearly loved to have that first kiss tonight—but he was also relieved: it made him feel safe, knowing that Percy didn’t want to push him.

Percy exhaled sharply in relief. “Thank you. I hoped you’d understand,” he said, as he reached out and gently pulled Credence into his arms. “I will kiss you soon, my love, I promise. And I look forward to that moment with all my heart.” He held Credence close for a moment, and then pulled back. “Now, go inside and get some rest. I’ll call you, all right?”

Credence nodded and let him go. He allowed himself to stand there in a dreamy, happy daze for a few minutes before he unlocked the door and went inside…only to find Tina sitting on the love seat. “Oh. Hi,” he said, surprised; after all, she’d been avoiding him for a week now.

“We need to talk,” she said quietly. “I know where you were tonight, Credence.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, a little confused. Did she think he was trying to hide it? He’d _told_ her he had feelings for Percy, for heaven’s sake.

“Well…I think you need to rethink it.”

“Oh. Yeah. I know you do.” He went over to his dresser and pulled out his pajamas. “Tina, I’m really tired,” he said, hoping she would take the hint. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

Tina didn’t move. “Credence…there are things you don’t know about him,” she said quietly. “It’s not just you I’m worried about. You could both end up hurt. Graves isn’t as tough as he looks—”

Oh, that was it. As if he’d ever hurt Percy! Credence tossed his pajama pants onto his bed and turned to face Tina, his patience gone. “Okay, you know what, that’s not fair. You said yourself you weren’t going to try and stop me. You _lied_ to me.”

That brought her up short. “ _Oh,_ ” she breathed, putting together two and two the way Tina always did. “Oh, damn. So you—”

“—know you deleted the messages, yeah,” he finished, unable to keep the anger out of his voice.

Tina nodded. “Okay. Well.” She stood up slowly, and then said very carefully, “If it helps at all, I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect you. _Both_ of you.”

Credence hated that she was still trying to justify what she did, even as she apologized. “You shouldn’t have messed with my phone,” he said quietly. “And you really didn’t need to go to Macusa and yell at Percy, either.”

Tina’s shock was palpable from across the room. “He lets you call him _Percy_? Jesus Christ.”

“He said you told him off for asking me out,” Credence went on, not to be distracted. He forced his head up and made himself look her in the eyes. “And that you tried to tell him about—about Ma. And he stopped you.”

Now that she understood why he was really angry, Tina’s last bit of self-assurance drained away. “Okay, now listen, I was just trying to—” she began, her voice shaking a little.

“No,” he cut her off, his hands clenching into fists as he desperately tried to keep his voice steady. “You had _no right_ , that stuff is—it’s _mine_. _I_ get to decide who knows about it, not you. _Not you!_ I don't care if you did save me— _you can’t_ —” He broke off mid-sentence and sucked in a deep, gasping breath, suddenly too hurt for words, and let himself sink down into a chair, face dropping into his hands.

He didn’t cry. He wasn't sad—he was just angry, and disappointed, and felt a painful sense of _loss_. He had trusted her, and now he felt like some vital part of their relationship had been torn to shreds.

“Oh, Credence,” he heard her say softly, “I never meant to hurt you like this. I’m so sorry.”

He raised his head, but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her eyes. “I can’t—” He bit his lip. “I don’t think I can forgive you right now, Tina.”

He heard her draw in a sharp breath. He’d never said that before. There was a tense silence that seemed to stretch on for hours, and then Tina said, “All right. I understand.” But before she left she told him, as she always did when he said no to her, “I’m proud of you, Credence.” And then she was gone.

Credence took a deep breath and rallied himself. He was not going to let a fight with Tina spoil his night. He sat still for a moment, eyes closed, replaying all of his favorite moments from the evening in his head.

 _Percy held you in the restaurant, even while he was eating, because he wanted you to feel safe. Percy took you to meet his family. Percy said he wants to take it slow, just like you do. He wanted to kiss you tonight but he held off because he wants it to be good, to be_ right _, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable because he really cares about you._

His anger drained away, replaced with a glowing warmth. _Ahhh. Much better._

Credence took his time getting ready for bed, the “glowing” feeling still radiating inside him. He didn’t really _need_ the music, not tonight; he was too happy to need help falling asleep…but he put on _Healing_ anyway because, happy or not, he still liked the way the music made him feel as if he were floating on a cloud.

 _Look upon yourself only with compassion, strip away the shell hiding your perfection_ , the singer urged him gently, and tonight, Credence found it easy to listen. _Though your past was full of darkness, now the past is gone. And your life is starting over when it’s just begun._

That was it. That was what it was, this new thing with Percy: a new beginning. Starting over. Leaving behind the darkness. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and woke up the next morning without having had a single nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cr2XMOVm9ZM) is Credence's "lullaby." It's a 3-song suite from a 70's album called "Healing," which my dad would play as he rocked me to sleep when I was tiny. To this day I listen to it when I can't sleep, so I decided Credence does too. :)
> 
> Seamus' anecdote about Graves being scammed by a date is a direct reference to In Bruges, and if you haven't seen it I beg you to do so because it is one of Colin's finest performances as well as an absolutely delightful example of black comedy. On that note, feel free to picture Brendan Gleeson as Reuben, who is a very rare actual OC. ;)
> 
> The story of Credence's first kiss is a reference to an Ezra Miller film from 2010, Every Day.
> 
> Yes, Seamus is Seamus Finnegan...my friend and beta-reader asked if she could be in the story as Graves' sister. I told her to pick a Harry Potter man for her fictional husband, she chose him. Then when she read this chapter she burst out laughing and said, "I was gonna complain about you marrying me off to a fry cook, but I'll forgive you if you include a scene of him blowing up the deep-fryer." Jury's still out on whether or not that's going to happen. :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay strap in everybody...this chapter could be alternately titled Graves And Credence Have A Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day. I promise, there IS fluff coming. Just hang in there. ;)
> 
> This chapter is essentially one big fat freakin' TW for Scary Medical Stuff. In no particular order: CPR/code blue, blood, death (canonical HP character death, two unnamed OC patient deaths), fainting/loss of consciousness, mentions of needles/IVs/injections, and air hunger/suffocation (character explicitly says "I can't breathe"). 
> 
> If any of that is going to be problematic for you I strongly recommend you check the end notes before you read the chapter. I tried very, very hard to make it as non-graphic as I possibly could while retaining the emotional impact these things have on the characters, but if you're worried *at all* please proceed with caution.
> 
> Other TWs: negative self-talk, systemic disregard of mental health, emotional breakdown, one reference to sexual assault - see end notes for descriptions of those as well.

Over the next few weeks the air finally turned cool and the leaves burst into color. Autumn had always been Graves’ favorite time of year, when the weather eased from blinding heat into something more comfortable and the chaos of summer settled into the end-of-year stability. Holidays weren’t _everything_ to Graves, but he liked the predictability of tradition, and he'd always found comfort in the way that the “schedule” of holidays seemed to ground the world in routine.

Things with Credence moved slow, as requested. Credence never pushed for physical affection, but Graves knew how deeply he craved it and was more than happy to provide. They didn’t kiss on the mouth—he didn’t offer, and Credence never demanded—and as midterm exams neared they didn’t have much time for dates. But they did find ways to be close, with plentiful hugs, hand-holding, kisses on the forehead or cheeks or hands, and tender cuddle sessions that left Graves feeling far more soft and warm inside than he’d care to admit.

It was in the midst of one of those soft, innocent cuddles (this one in a private corner of the Ilvermorny library) that Credence shyly asked if they could talk about something. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask,” he began, and then chewed his lip, afraid he might get in trouble.

“You can ask me anything you want, darling,” Graves assured him, smoothing the worried creases in his sweetheart’s brow with a feather-light kiss.

Credence’s eyes fluttered as he accepted the touch—he luxuriated in it whenever Graves touched or kissed him anywhere, absorbing the affection like a thirsty sponge—and then he shook himself a little and asked, his voice trembling, “Are we boyfriends now? Is that—is that what this is?”

Graves’ heart somersaulted in his chest. _Oh, God. I’m not strong enough to handle this_. “Is that what you want?” he asked gently. “Because if it is, then yes. I told you in the car, I don’t…I don’t want something casual. If you’re ready to put a label on it, be my guest. I’m all yours, my love.”

For a long moment there was silence. Credence buried his face in Graves’ neck, and then breathed, his whole body trembling, “I’m so—I’m so _happy_ right now."

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m happy too, you don’t even know how much,” Graves sighed back, holding Credence as if he would never let go.

There was so much he wanted to say, but it all came down to those three classic little words that had the power to move mountains. And he knew full well that neither of them were ready to say it…but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel it. He closed his eyes and let his heart fill with emotions he didn’t think he’d ever feel again. Let the knowledge that Credence wanted him, might even _love him_ , flow through his veins with his life’s blood.

“You mean so much to me, my love,” he breathed into Credence’s hair, relishing the feeling of Credence’s weight in his lap and letting himself believe, if only for right now, that he was allowed to have something this good.

~

“For God’s sake will someone get me some fuckin’ epinephrine already!” Graves shouted over the wail of the EKG, as he watched a frustrated RN pounding away at chest compressions. _Not,_ he thought desperately, _that it will do any good._ He’d seen enough of these to know how it ended.

Someone handed him the drug. He slammed it through the IV port and watched for a reaction. None. The nurse doing chest compressions stepped back as the RN with the AED called out, “Clear. We’ll try this again.” She pushed the button. The shock came. The heartbeat, however, did not.

Graves looked at the EKG and did not like what he saw. “V-tach is gone into asystole,” he announced to the team, and the nurse running the AED cussed fluently in reply. Right on cue, the whole team looked to the MD who was running the code.

Dr. Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily. “We’re calling it,” he announced. “I’m sorry, everyone. Time of death is—” He checked the clock, then his watch. “11:43 AM.” He looked over to Graves. “Can you take it from here?”

Graves nodded briskly and looked away, staring down at the body. It was just, he thought desperately, not fucking _fair_. This one was eighty-two and very sick, and was not, in Graves’ opinion, young or healthy enough to justify a full code. She deserved a peaceful death, he thought, not to have the last few moments of her life tick away while hapless idiots with fancy degrees played God by shooting her up with adrenaline in order to force her tired heart to keep beating.

It took him an hour to do the paperwork between consults….and then another alarm blared. _Oh, God. Two in one day? Talk about unfair._ By the time Graves got to the room Dumbledore and the rest of the cardiology team were already there. “Take over compressions,” Dumbledore ordered him without looking up.

Oh, lovely. Graves enjoyed doing chest compressions about as much as he enjoyed having his teeth pulled. But he wasn’t running the code, and it was his responsibility to go where he was needed. It was another elderly person, a man this time. _I can’t do this_ , he thought, despair hitting him like a wave. _God, I’m so fucking tired, I can’t_ — But he had to. Knowing it was hopeless, knowing it was not going to save the man’s life, Graves set to doing chest compressions as if his own life depended on it. Maybe…if he just tried hard enough this time…

But the man didn’t make it. Of course.

“Time of death, 2:21 PM,” Dr. Dumbledore sighed, and shot a look at Graves that perhaps was supposed to be sympathetic…or maybe scolding; honestly, it was hard for Graves to really tell.

“I’ll clean up here. He’s my patient,” Graves told the RNs. They drifted away, leaving only a couple of nurse aides to help him do the postmortem care. “You too,” he told them. “Go on. I’ll take care of it. I’m sure you all have a million things to do.”

The aides stared at him in shock. It was highly unusual for any level of RN to do the “grunt work” of postmortem care, with some notable exceptions. A high-ranker like Graves volunteering to take it all on himself, however, was nearly unheard of. “You don’t have to do that, Dr. Graves,” one of the CNAs said uncertainly, her eyes darting guiltily to her coworkers.

“You all go focus on your living patients. I’ll finish up here.” He forced a little smile and added, “It’s something I can do for him.”

The aides all immediately went quiet, nodding their understanding, and left him alone. For some nurses, and even the odd doctor, cleaning and dressing the body after a fatal code was a sign of respect. That was the exception to the “high rankers don’t handle dead bodies” rule, and everyone who worked in telemetry or the ED knew it.

Graves managed, through sheer force of will, to wait until he was alone to release the moan of despair that had been building inside him through the entire code. “I’m sorry,” he told the body laying on the bed. “You deserved better.”

_They all deserve better._

It was almost 5:00 when he finally, _finally_ finished the paperwork for his second dead patient and managed to adequately chart the progress of his living ones, and decided that he could call it a day. He headed for the locker room, desperate for a hot shower. Instead he found his path blocked by ( _Oh, shoot me now_ ) Dr. Dumbledore, who asked without preamble, “I see you’re on your way out, but first, would you like to tell me what happened today?”

“Well, we had two full codes, with two patients who had low odds of surviving,” Graves pointed out, the _and you really should have fucking talked to them about DNRs while they were alert and oriented_ going unsaid.

“Well, yes, but low odds doesn’t mean there’s no hope of survival,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “I know we’ve always differed on this, Dr. Graves, but really…be honest with me, now…were you trying your hardest today? Or had you already given them up as lost causes?”

This was a serious accusation, and if it had come from, say, Lockhart, the threat would have set Graves’ heart pounding. But while the upper crust of Macusa adored Dr. Dumbledore, the floor RNs and CNAs—and Graves—all knew the truth: the man was at his core a manipulative bastard. He was an excellent doctor, but it didn’t change the fact that, as an exasperated Newt had once said, “If Dr. Dumbledore were Nick Fury, he wouldn’t have just dipped Coulson’s trading cards in blood when the Avengers failed, he would’ve stabbed the man himself to give them incentive to fight another day.” Dumbledore was just trying to needle Graves into doing better next time, and they both knew it.

So Graves just gave him a sheepish, forced smile and said, “I’m sorry if I seemed off my game, but two codes in a day will do that to a man. I know you see me as some kind of Kevorkian wannabe, but…” He let the pain and exhaustion of the day seep into his voice as he admitted, with more weakness than he generally would have cared to show in front of this particular doctor, “I really hate losing patients.”

Dumbledore nodded sympathetically and reached out to bestow a pat on his upper arm. “Don’t we all.” He left his hand on Graves’ shoulder as he said, “I don’t see you as an angel of death, Dr. Graves. You ought to know that.”

Graves stepped back instinctively, twitching Dumbledore’s hand off his shoulder. “And you ought to know I don’t like to be touched,’” he said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Apologies,” Dumbledore said mildly. “But back to my original point—I don’t understand why you still don’t trust me. We’ve worked on this floor together for near five years now. Why can’t we be friends?” 

He had asked this question so many times over the years that Graves always knew it was coming. But that didn’t make the answer hurt any less.

 _Because you sleep next to a monster every night and look the other way when his fangs come out_. _And because deep down you_ must _know what he really is, but you let him get away with everything short of literal murder because you don’t want to admit that you love someone so dangerous._

Dumbledore looked expectantly at Graves, who uncomfortably turned his face away as he murmured, “I don’t have very many friends. It’s nothing personal.”

It was a cheap, false line, and Dumbledore knew it. But as always, he accepted it at face value. “Someday, perhaps,” he said pleasantly, and bade Graves the same cheerful good-bye he always did.

As Graves walked away all he could think about was how good it would have felt, just once, to look the man in the eyes and say, _Well you see, Dumbledore, the reason I don’t especially want to be your friend is because your husband is the reason I’m afraid to let my boyfriend make love to me._

He took the long way to the locker room so he could stop by the chapel. Graves was not a religious man, not really. His parents had made him take confirmation classes like a good little Irish Catholic boy, and they had all gone on Christmas Eve and during Holy Week, but it was more for the ceremony and the tradition than actual religious obligation. Even so, a long time ago as a student he’d had a little ritual of lighting a candle in the chapel for any patients he’d lost on his shift. Whether or not whatever nebulous gods were out there actually cared if he did it or not was anyone’s guess…but just as with the holidays, Graves found the ritual aspect of it comforting and after a day like today, he’d take comfort in any form he could get.

It was almost empty when he went inside. There was one other person, tall and dark-haired, slumped forward over the back of a pew. Whoever it was hadn’t bothered with a kneeler—just collapsed to the floor and used the pew to hold them up. They were shaking, wracked with silent tears, and while instinct told him _go to the front, light your candle, give them their privacy_ , something else pulled him towards his sobbing neighbor.

He froze in his tracks when he got closer. His heart fell from his chest and shattered on the floor. Oh, he should have known…there was only one person he’d ever met who cried that quietly.

“Credence,” he breathed. Within seconds he’d fallen to his knees and pulled the trembling boy into his arms. “Oh, Credence, sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?” Credence had iron self-control over his pain. Graves had seen that firsthand. The poor thing had to be given permission, told it was all right to be sad, before he let himself cry. For something to break that control…

Credence tried to pull away when Graves put his arms around him. “Don’t—my scrubs—I’ll get blood on you—”

Graves was so shocked he almost blacked out. _He had a code today too_ , he realized. “Oh—that’s all right,” he said when he recovered. “There are showers here, blood can be washed off, I don’t care—oh, love, no—” Credence was still trying to pull away, and it obliterated what was left of Graves’ own self-control. Tears welled in his eyes as he quietly begged, “Don’t hold back on me…please, sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

That seemed to undo Credence entirely. He collapsed into Graves’ arms, crying from the depths of his broken heart, while Graves held on for dear life and wished desperately that he could take Credence’s pain and carry the weight for him.

~

It had been such a _good day_ up to then. That was the worst part.

Dr. Lockhart must have been in a good mood that day, because he assigned Credence a patient that he cited as “easy.” Hermione had been his nurse, and she’d let him follow her on her morning rounds as well as her med pass, and do full assessments on all of her patients so he could practice for his health assessment practical final the following week. He passed medication for the first time that morning and did it perfectly. Even eagle-eyed Lockhart couldn’t find anything to criticize about his performance.

Credence’s assigned patient was a kind-faced, laid-back kid named Cedric. He was twenty-one and in his final year at University of Michigan, studying biology, getting ready for grad school. He was in because of sickle-cell anemia, but he was on the upswing and, according to the chart, could be discharged any day now. Just waiting for one more round of test results to come back. He was friendly, easy, and lighthearted. He was the kind of person who wanted to make friends with everyone around him, and because he was so nice he apparently almost always got his way.

So, of course, he had to die.

They were talking while Credence took his 11:00 AM vitals. Cedric was sitting up in bed, smiling as he told Credence about the dog at the local animal shelter that he planned to adopt as a surprise for his live-in boyfriend. Credence had just clipped the PulseOx to his finger when Cedric stopped mid-sentence, turned white as the blankets, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “I’m sorry, I—I can’t—” He coughed up a fresh stream of blood, some of which splattered onto Credence, before he managed to gasp out, “I can’t breathe, _help_ —”

Credence slammed the code button so fast he hurt his hand. Hermione came exploding into the room just in time to see Credence, helpless to do anything else, holding a plastic basin under Cedric’s mouth as he coughed up mouthful after mouthful of blood. As she came to the bedside, Cedric slumped to the side, blood still gurgling from his open mouth, his eyes glassy and unseeing. 

“We need the crash cart, _now_!” Hermione shouted into the hallway, and then told Credence, “Help me get the body board under him.” She made Credence do the chest compressions while she desperately tried to suction Cedric’s throat faster than it could fill with blood. He did as she told him. Doing chest compressions was oddly satisfying; at least he was doing _something_ to help.

When the real crash team arrived, Credence was yanked away and all but thrown into a corner as a doctor and two other nurses joined Hermione. It took them roughly ten minutes to come to the understanding that no matter how hard they pounded on his chest (Credence could _hear_ the ribs cracking even from his spot in the corner), no matter how much adrenaline they shot into him, no matter how many volts they used to shock him, no matter how hard they tried to keep him alive long enough to find and stop the bleeding, Cedric was not going to make it.

By that point, half the floor had come to see what was up; they didn’t usually have codes on this floor. Credence, standing in the corner covered in Cedric’s blood, lost and dazed and numb, looked up and saw Dr. Lockhart in the crowd, just as the MD running the code said solemnly, “Time of death, 11:07 AM.”

Credence felt his eyes roll up, felt his consciousness slip away, felt his knees buckle as he slid down the wall. He felt it, but was powerless to stop it, just as he’d been powerless to stop his patient from dying a bloody, painful death.

A sharp pain in his cheek dragged him back to consciousness, and Lockhart’s face swam into view. He heard the teacher shouting at him, heard the usual litany of _useless_ and _childish_ and _never going to be a nurse_. He couldn’t bring himself to reply. _He’s right_ , some tiny, delirious voice said in the back of his mind. _How can you work hospice if a fatal code brings you to your knees?_

Credence didn’t know how long he sat on the floor, paralyzed with shock, entranced by his own pain, after Lockhart finally left him. Eventually someone knelt beside him and cleaned his bloody hands with alcohol spray and a wet cloth. Hermione. “You did everything right,” she told him quietly.

“He should’t have died...you don’t die from anemia...I should have _known_...” Credence could hear the words coming from his mouth, but didn’t know how he was making himself say them. Nothing in his brain seemed to be working properly.

Hermione gently cut him off, “He didn’t die of anemia. He died from a weak heart and a ruptured artery, honey. It wasn’t you.”

She helped him stand, got him to the empty conference room at the end of the hall, made him drink two cups of water, checked his vital signs herself. He let her fuss over him until his head cleared a little and he was able to tell her he was sorry. “Don’t be,” she ordered him gently. “Seasoned doctors sometimes break down after they have a death like that. You aren’t the first one to faint after a fatal code, whatever that jerkass Lockhart tells you.”

“I fainted?” His voice sounded weak, alien. He knew it had happened, but it didn’t feel real until he heard it said out loud.

“You did,” she confirmed, anger creeping into her voice, “and that _idiot_ hit you in the face until you snapped out of it, yelled at you, and then left without making sure you were all right. I don’t know who gave that bastard a doctorate, but I’d like to have a talk with them…”

Her indignation on his behalf would ordinarily have soothed whatever hurt had brought it on. Now, however, he felt empty. “I don’t think I can do this,” he whispered.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel like that now,” she assured him. “You’ve just had a really bad shock. Hell, I’m tempted to take you to the ED and get you looked at, but I’ll leave that up to you.”

“I’m fine,” he said hollowly. He could tell from Hermione’s face that she didn’t believe him, but she was true to her word, and after rechecking his vital signs one more time she reluctantly went back to work, leaving him with strict instructions to rest in the conference room until his class came back from lunch.

Dr. Lockhart pulled them all to post-conference right after lunch, as usual (how they were supposed to get 200 clinical hours like this remained an utter mystery), and Credence had to endure a solid two hours of the usual bragging, crude jokes, and gossip before they were finally done. But when the others were released, Credence was held back. He knew it wasn’t a good sign.

Dr. Lockhart went on for a half-hour about how badly Credence had failed. “Do you know how embarrassing it is for me, having one of my students faint on the floor like a scared little girl?” he demanded. “They’re going to think I didn’t prepare you for a code! I hope you at least helped when you found your patient in distress and didn’t just stand there and let everyone else do all the work…”

At the end of it, he was handed a PIP and ordered to fill it out, sign it, and copy Dr. Picquery on the email when he turned it in. “If you can’t handle yourself out there, don’t go on the floor,” Lockhart finished coldly when Credence offered up a weak apology. “I don’t know why you’re still here, though, really. It’s nice that you’re so bent on trying, but I have to be honest with you, Barebeone, I will be genuinely shocked if you make it through this program.”

Credence managed to keep himself together long enough to get to the hospital cafe. He just had to hold out, he told himself, long enough to see Percy, and then he knew he’d feel better…but an hour later was forced to come to the conclusion that Percy had been held up, and was not going to be able to have coffee with him today.

He dragged himself towards the student lockers, passing up the pharmacy (Lilah was just about to get off, he knew, but he didn’t feel comfortable enough with her to let her see him this unhappy) and trudging down the hall at a snail’s pace until he stopped outside the chapel. He hadn’t planned to go here, it was just on the way to the lockers, but…

He laughed deliriously at how stupid he must be, to think God would hear his prayers now. _You left the church, remember? You’re dating a man. You live with two Jewish women. You listen to rock music, you believe in evolution, you let Queenie put_ makeup _on you for heaven’s sake. You really think God will listen to you? Set foot in there and you’ll probably turn into a pillar of salt._

Actually, he thought, looking at the unassuming wooden door, that might not be so bad. A pillar of salt couldn’t feel this much pain.

He went in. It was nothing like the warehouse his mother had converted into a would-be megachurch. It was small and cozy, with just a few rows of wooden pews, a small altar, bare walls and a block-pattern stained glass window. No photos of Jesus bleeding on the cross, no pamphlets by the door screaming the dangers of gay sex, rock music, and witchcraft. It actually felt…nice. Almost peaceful. But more importantly, it was empty _._ He was alone, and when he was this upset, alone meant _safe_.

He meant to kneel, because it was a church and it was right. But he didn’t _kneel_ so much as _collapse_ ; only the back of the pew in front of him kept him from falling in a heap. Cedric’s crushing last words played on a loop in his mind— _I can’t breathe, help_ —along with Dr. Lockhart’s scathing analysis of his performance— _I’ll be shocked if you make it through this program_ —until he couldn’t contain it anymore and he broke down and silently wept, muffling the noise in the bloodstained thermal he wore under his scrubs.

Credence didn’t know how long he was there, lost in his own pain, before the door opened and closed behind him. He almost got up, but found he couldn’t make himself move. _Let them see me,_ he thought brokenly. _It’s a hospital chapel. They’ll probably be crying, too._

But whoever it was did not ignore him, as he’d expected they would. Instead, with a tremendous sense of deja vu, a pair of sturdy arms closed around him. “Oh, Credence, sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

There was only one person in the world who held him like that, who called him _sweetheart_ , and Credence should have been thrilled. He’d wanted, after all, to see Percy earlier…but when Percy touched him, he realized he still had Cedric’s blood on him and tried to back away, so as not to taint the man he loved with the evidence of his failure. “I’ll get blood on you,” he protested.

But Percy didn’t care. “Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, and Credence was helpless to resist: just like he had on the day of the assessment demonstration, he caved and let Percy hold him as he cried. “Just let it out, darling, I’ve got you,” Percy said soothingly, just like last time, as he held Credence close and rubbed his back. “I’m here, love. It’ll be all right.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Credence told him between sobs. “You don’t know—I failed, I—”

“Sh-h-h. Let me guess, you had a code, and they didn’t make it?” When Credence nodded against his chest, Percy sighed heavily and held him a little tighter. “Oh, my sweet boy…I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding as if he were crying too. “I wish I could take the pain and carry it for you, sweetheart. I’ve been where you are. Trust me, I know how much it hurts.”

Shaking all over, feeling as if he were physically breaking into pieces in Percy’s arms, Credence sobbed out the whole story. When he told Percy, his face burning with shame, what had happened after the code and the way Lockhart had responded, Percy let out a choked sound of pure fury. “He _hit_ you?” he gasped. “Oh, that _fucker_ —I swear to God, I’m going to kill him.”

“It was my fault,” Credence told Percy, still shaking, still unable to rein in his tears. “I passed out, I tried to be strong but I couldn’t—”

“Oh, no darling, _no_.” Percy held Credence at arm’s length and made him look into his eyes. “You are _not_ at fault,” he said firmly. “Not for any of it, do you understand? I won’t have you thinking you’re weak, you hear me, I won’t have it! You’d just had a tremendous shock. Your mind and body couldn’t work together to process what had just happened. _You needed help_ , Credence, not a slap in the face. If I were in charge, I’d fire him the second I heard of this. Did he do anything else?”

Credence reassured Percy that Hermione had taken care of him, but he couldn’t hide his bitterness in his voice when he told Percy about the PIP. “I’m going to get thrown out, I know I am,” he finished, and a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed him.

“Oh, no…sh-h-h, sweetheart, it’s all right. You won’t be thrown out.” Percy held Credence close until he quieted. Then he said reassuringly, “A PIP isn’t meant to be a punishment, after all…Lockhart’s just trying to be cruel. Sera won’t let him get away with that.”

“Are you sure?” Credence clung desperately to his words; he’d take any scrap of good news he could get at this point.

“Oh, sweet Credence…I’d never lie to you, my love. Never.” Percy kissed his forehead. “Poor darling. You’ve had the worst day, haven’t you?”

Credence nodded against his chest again. Now that he’d cried himself out, he was so exhausted he didn’t know if he could stand, let alone drive home. “Will you stay with me a while?” he murmured into Percy’s neck. “Just a little while, please, I just feel so…”

“I know how it feels, love, trust me...in fact...why don’t you come home with me tonight?” Percy offered. “You can have a shower, I’ll put your scrubs in the laundry, we’ll order some food…and you can just rest, just lean on me until you feel better. How’s that sound?”

Well. Credence didn’t have to think twice about _that_. “Okay," he agreed as he reluctantly pulled away and sat up straight. "And…Percy?”

Percy reached out and tenderly cupped his palm around Credence’s cheek. “What is it, darling?”

Credence leaned into the touch, the warmth of the many soft names that Percy called him filling his heart to bursting. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly. It wasn’t enough to convey the intensity of his gratitude, or the depth of his love. But it was all he could say.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Percy very gently cupped his hands around Credence’s face and lightly stroked the sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. For a long moment they stayed there like that, the time stretching out unbroken and perfect, Percy’s eyes hungrily drinking in Credence’s face. Credence, for his part, stayed as still as he could, his hands clutching Percy’s waist and his breath coming in short little puffs, hypnotized by the way Percy was looking at him.

The world shrank, burned up, disappeared; all that was left was the two of them, locked in each other’s arms, unable to think or feel or know anything but each other. Percy’s lips parted, his tongue flicked out to wet them and then just as quickly retracted. He inhaled once, a short, sharp sound that jarred Credence out of his trance just enough to understand he’d been asked a silent question.

He answered by closing his eyes, which he hoped was enough to indicate his total and complete surrender. _Yes, Percy. I’m yours._

For a moment, everything in the room was utterly still. Neither of them even breathed.

And then Percy’s mouth came down on his, and Credence thought his entire world might just burst into a thousand glittery pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for TWs:
> 
> Graves is put through two codes/rounds of CPR on two different elderly patients and neither one of them make it. Non-graphic descriptions of CPR, AED use (shocks) and injections of heart-stimulating drugs. Afterwards he mentions to Dumbledore the patients "should have signed DNRs," meaning he thinks they should have been allowed to die peacefully rather than put through CPR at the end of their lives. Postmortem care/prepping a body for the morgue is discussed. The medical narrative itself is fairly desaturated and technical language is used; this is the "not that bad" end of the Icky Medical Stuff spectrum.
> 
> Credence participates in his first code and it is Very Very Bad. Since this is from the POV of a frightened student instead of a seasoned professional, this one is a hell of a lot more graphic and unsettling. Cedric, Credence's patient, seems fine and he is talking to Credence normally, but then suddenly begins to cough up blood. He spits blood onto Credence and says, "I can't breathe, help" before he passes out. He dies after an aggressive code in which Credence is forced to particpate by doing chest compressions. Credence goes into a state of shock after the code and passes out. Lockhart handles it in typical Lockhart fashion by shaming Credence for fainting and writes him up for being unprofessional. Naturally this does not sit too well with Credence, who ends up breaking down much the way he did after the demonstration. He blames himself for being "weak" and repeatedly says so to Graves.
> 
> Finally, we learn that Dumbledore's husband is Graves' rapist. During an end-of-workday conversation, Dumbledore touches him despite the implication that Graves has repeatedly asked him not to, he asks "why can't we be friends," subtly shames Graves for not trusting him, and in general just acts like a manipulative oblivious douchebag. Narratively, Graves confirms that the rapist is Dumbledore's husband (he fantasizes about telling Dumbledore "your husband is the reason I'm afraid to let my boyfriend make love to me").
> 
> Medical junk lightning round:  
> -V-tach = ventricular tachycardia, asystole = flatlining. Long story short if your heart is doing the first, your odds are decent as long as it's treated immediately and correctly. If it's doing the second, you are probably already dead.  
> -AED = machine you use to shock someone during CPR  
> -DNR = do not resuscitate. You would basically sign one of these if you knew you were dying and wanted them to let you go peacefully instead of trying to bring you back with CPR.  
> -PIP = performance improvement plan, the nursing school equivalent of a write-up. Ostensibly these are meant to be used to help you improve as a nurse; in actual fact they're essentially used as a threat/punishment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. PEDIATRIC NURSING IS KICKING MY ASS. You don't understand, I'm a palliative care/comfort care/geriatrics kinda girl, I do NOT know what to do with small children!!! (Yeah, okay, they're virtual/CGI patients. DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS NERVEWRACKING OKAY)
> 
> ...Naturally, the thing I NEED to spend my time on this week is uploading an entire old story in one go, *and* editing and posting a chapter of this monster, right? ;)
> 
> SO. TWs for this chapter:  
> -There are some references to Credence's past abuse, and a lot of discussion of his scars  
> -Sex doesn't happen (sorry!) but it is heavily discussed in this chapter, a sexual assault survivor is upset with himself for "not feeling ready" to be intimate with someone  
> -See end notes for "spoilers" re: TWs, as always :)

Kissing Credence was like tasting a delicious dessert after half a decade of living on celery and birdseed.

Graves meant to kiss him once, softly and chastely, and then pull back, assess, and recalibrate the situation as needed. But at the first touch of those sweet lips against his own, Graves was utterly lost. Credence’s mouth was so perfect, so pliant and sweet, that what should have been a brief, chaste touch of lips quickly turned into something passionate and fiery and utterly overwhelming.

Graves could taste salt from the boy’s tears, could still feel the tearstains under his fingers as he cupped Credence’s face in his hands, could feel Credence’s wet lashes fluttering against his cheek. Oh, he should not be doing this, _he should not_ , the poor thing was obviously upset right now and shouldn’t be touched like this—he needed to pull away, to make sure Credence was all right—

But with a low, desperate moan Credence opened his mouth to Graves and began to kiss back. There was no technique, just frantic, messy, raw desire. _He wants this,_ Graves realized with a rush of exhilaration, _every bit as badly as I do. Oh, Credence…you sweet thing, I’m never letting you go._ He made a slow, deliberate sweep of the boy’s mouth with the tip of his tongue and ran his hands across his thin back, touching as much as he could through the rough weave of his scrubs, marveling at the way Credence responded, promptly and intensely, to his touch.

When it had gone on long enough that it was hard to breathe, Graves eased his tongue from Credence’s mouth and, very slowly and regretfully, drew back from the kiss. The feeling of Credence panting against his lips damn near made him lose it again—but this time he kept his desire in check and contented himself with tangling his fingers in Credence’s hair. “You’re so incredible, my love,” he murmured, his heart full to bursting, his eyes wet.

Credence let out a long, shuddery sigh, his eyelids fluttering, his lips swollen and shining wet. He couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to hold or to be held; his hands flitted from Graves’ shoulders to his chest and then back to his arms again. Graves took charge and gently guided Credence’s arms around his neck. “There,” he said softly. “That’s all right, isn’t it?”

Credence nodded, swallowed hard, and pulled himself in close, tucking his head up under Graves’ chin. “This is good,” he said, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Good.” Graves rubbed his back in slow, gentle circles and said, “Relax. I’ve got you, sweetheart.” As if on cue, Credence melted into Graves’ arms. It dawned on Graves that this was a pattern: in his most vulnerable moments Credence desperately tried to hold himself together until given explicit permission to let his emotions take over. Even now, coming down from the high of their first kiss, he waited for Graves to tell him it was all right before he allowed himself to enjoy it. And oh, didn’t that just break Graves’ heart, to think of the events that made his sweet boy think that it had to be that way.

 _I’m going to fix this,_ he thought fiercely. _God as my witness, I will make sure this poor kid learns that he doesn’t need permission to have feelings._

He allowed himself the luxury of holding and petting Credence for a few more minutes before he guided Credence back upright so he could get a good look at him. He was pleased to see that, far from seeming uncomfortable, Credence had a dreamy cast to his beautiful dark eyes, spots of color in those usually-pale cheeks, his hair mussed and his lips still red and kiss-swollen. That was nice. Graves definitely wanted to see more of that.

There was, however, the small problem that they were sitting on the floor in a hospital, and had been for quite some time. “We need to get up, love,” he said with a sigh, and carefully took Credence with him as he got to his feet. “Can you walk with me, you think?” he asked, and was relieved to see Credence answer with a (somewhat dazed) nod. “All right, then, let’s go.”

Graves kept Credence’s arm around his shoulder as they walked, first to the locker room (and he insisted on carrying Credence’s bag, too), and then to the car. Credence weakly protested at first, but ultimately seemed to decide that he did in fact need support, because in the end he gave in and allowed himself to be led around as if he were a lost invalid.

Graves waited until he’d got Credence safely buckled into the passenger seat of his hybrid car before he looked him over again and, upon seeing that Credence still had that dreamy cast in his eyes, decided it was time to check in. “Are we okay, sweetheart?” he asked, not quite sure what he was expecting in answer.

A flash of surprise tainted Credence’s pleasure-drunk expression. “Okay?” he repeated uncertainly. “Why…why would we _not_ be okay?”

“I kissed you. And I didn’t exactly get a verbal yes first,” Graves pointed out. “So now I have to ask…are you sure you’re okay with everything that just happened?”

“Am I _okay_?” Credence repeated, now looking thoroughly confused. “Percy, I swear I—I’ve never felt better in my life. I didn’t even think it was _possible_ to feel this good.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. I _want_ you to feel good, sweetheart. All the time.” He reached over and squeezed Credence’s hand across the gearshift. “So…do you still want to come home with me, then?”

Credence finally turned and looked directly at him, his eyes wide with mingled surprise and indignation. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Guess that answers my question,” Graves chuckled, and started the car.

“Do you think—no, never mind.” It took a few promptings from Graves, and one playful half-threat to tickle it out of him, before Credence admitted, “I’m sorry to ask but…I didn’t eat today, I was too upset to go to lunch and—can we, I don’t know, just stop at a McDonald’s or something? Please? I wouldn’t ask except—”

 _Except it’s an emergency, and if I don’t feed you now you’ll probably faint again_ , Graves finished in his head, his heart breaking for Credence all over again. They had come so far, but Credence was still so reticent to ask for what he wanted. Even four years with the Goldsteins hadn’t made it fully sink in that he was safe now, and he _badly_ wanted to feel safe; the fact that a single “it’s okay” from Graves was enough to make Credence melt in his arms and open up like a starved flower to the sun made that brutally obvious.

 _He needs a therapist_ , Graves realized, not for the first time. _He needs someone to help him process what happened to him as a kid…whatever it was, it had to be bad for him to be like this. Tina’s trying, I know she’s trying, but God, he’s been torn to shreds by someone, and she can’t just make that go away with a few kindly lectures and a college degree. He doesn’t need to “learn to be on his own.” He needs trauma counseling._

But Graves was only human, and he couldn’t even begin to consider how to approach that topic. What he could do, though, was feed Credence, take him home, and care for him. So that, he decided, was just what he’d do.

They went through the drive-thru and ate in the parking lot of a nearby office, and Graves ended up neglecting his own food because watching Credence eat, as Graves quickly realized, was the _cutest goddamn thing on planet earth._ The sight of Credence dipping his fries in his hot-fudge sundae, licking ranch sauce from the chicken nuggets off of his fingers, and sneezing after he accidentally sniffed the bubbles in his Coke all had Graves absolutely mesmerized, and he realized (not for the first time) that he was in so, _so_ far over his head.

They listened to the radio as they ate, and whenever a song that he remembered from college came up Graves sang along like he was headlining a rock concert, just to make Credence laugh. When they were done eating Credence reached over the little pile of McDonald’s trash to lace his oily, salt-flecked fingers through Graves’, and it should have been disgusting—but it felt as tender and romantic as the end of a sappy movie.

 _I love him. Fuck, but I love him, and it doesn’t matter what Tina says or what anyone says. If Dr. Firenze told me to never see Credence again I’d fire him on the spot. I’d give up Macusa, my degree, my fucking_ life _for him. I’d dive into the pit of souls, just like Hercules, if I thought he was in there and I could get him out. A lifetime isn’t enough, God, I want_ eternity _with this kid._

_How the hell did I ever think I could walk away from you, Credence Barebone?_

~

Percy’s apartment was downtown, just a short drive from the hospital. It was also one of the coolest apartments Credence had ever seen. It was an open hardwood floor plan, with the living, dining, and sleeping areas filled with mismatched furniture and separated by airy opaque curtains, lit up by hundreds of tiny lights over the walls and ceiling.

“This is your place?” He immediately forgot his exhaustion as he looked around in wonder. “It’s…wow. It’s so _nice_. I mean, I knew you’d live somewhere nice, but this is…”

“Cool, right?” Percy nodded his agreement. “You should’ve seen this place when I first bought it—ancient carpet, two tiny bedrooms and a real narrow kitchen, cast-iron light fixtures on the walls. I hated it. Had someone knock all the walls down for me, had a good electrician set up all the lights you see on the walls. Turned the second bathroom into a laundry room, put up all the stuff you see in the kitchen—”

“Wait. You _own_ your apartment?”

“Well, yeah.” Percy noted Credence’s shock and laughed. “It just means I had the privilege of doing all this.” He gestured to the changes he’d made. “I don’t own the building. NPs don’t make _that_ much.”

“Oh.” Credence took another look around. “Well, you did great with it. It looks like…like a real home.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it. Now, if you’d like to change, the laundry room is through there.” He pointed to the lone solid wall behind Credence. “In fact, why don’t you go ahead and have a shower, too. I’ll get you some towels and—”

“I’m okay. Really, you don’t have to do that.”

Percy stared at him for a moment, then he shook his head and sighed. “Credence, love,” he said patiently, “I appreciate that you’re trying to be strong, but I want you to stop that, okay? You _passed out_ today, and you didn’t get much in the way of medical attention for it. Please let me spoil you, just a little. _Please?_ ”

He reached up and gently cupped a hand around Credence’s cheek, a tender, appealing look in his eyes, and that was it—Credence was helpless when Percy looked at him like _that_. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “If it’ll make you feel better,” he conceded, and opened his eyes just in time to see the look of pure relief on his boyfriend’s face.

In addition to the shower, Credence let Percy sweet-talk him into borrowing a set of very soft pajama pants when it came out that he had brought jeans to change into after clinicals. When he came out of the bathroom he found that Percy had lit about a dozen lavender-and-vanilla candles, and set up a massive nest of pillows and blankets on the couch.

“Oh, good. Feel better?” Percy—who had changed into a pair of fleece lounge pants and a very old, well-worn Ilvermorny t-shirt and looked so cute Credence wanted to cuddle him like a teddy bear—reached out as soon as Credence was close enough to touch, his hand hovering over Credence’s shoulder. “May I?” he asked, and waited for an affirming nod before he pulled Credence into a loose embrace.

Very gently, Percy cupped Credence’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking across his cheekbones just like he had done in the chapel. Slowly, giving Credence plenty of time to push him away, Percy let his hands drift downward, long fingers wrapping lightly around the back of Credence’s neck. Credence couldn’t help but let out a little whine of pleasure; he’d always been sensitive there and Percy’s fingertips felt so good, moving so gently over the delicate skin.

“May I kiss you, sweetheart?” Percy asked, and waited, again, for a positive response. Only then did he lean in and kiss Credence, first on the forehead and then on the lips. It was a lovely kiss, soft and full and so, _so_ tender—entirely different from the passionate make-out they had shared in the hospital, but every bit as good. Credence let his eyes fall shut as his hands drifted up of their own accord, one settling on Percy’s shoulder while the other tangled in the hem of his t-shirt.

After an entirely too brief time Percy pulled back and paused, his eyes carefully searching Credence’s face. He must’ve liked what he saw, because he smiled and said very quietly, “There. That’s how I meant to kiss you earlier.”

“You mean when we were in the hospital?” Credence said stupidly. (In his defense, he was pretty sure the way Percy was looking at him would shut down anyone’s brain.)

“Yes. I wish I hadn’t done that,” Percy said, eyes filled with a painful regret. “I should have been more gentle with you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for that,” Credence assured him, wondering if they were remembering the kiss in the chapel very differently; in his memory of the event, Percy had been very gentle indeed. “I liked it when you kissed me earlier. I liked it a lot.”

“That’s good to know, and I’m glad you did like it. But I still should have made sure you were all right with being kissed to begin with, before I threw myself at you like that.” Percy paused there, and then his face became very serious as he said, “Credence, love, you do know that you always have the right to say no to me, don’t you?”

Credence pulled back so that he and Percy were still connected, but not pressed right up against each other, surprised and more than a little uncomfortable with how this conversation was going. “But I didn’t want to stop you,” he said uncertainly. “Was I supposed to?”

“No, no! No, that’s not what I…damn, I’m doing this all wrong.” Percy sighed and let go, only to take both of Credence’s hands in his and stare earnestly into his eyes. “Listen, I’m just trying to make sure you understand that I…I just want you to be all right with whatever we do, okay? I don’t ever want you to be uncomfortable. You can tell me if I ever cross a line, and I will immediately stop. You understand?”

“Percy, you _never_ make me uncomfortable,” Credence told him seriously, and meant it. He’d never felt anything less than perfectly safe with Percy, and he had serious doubts that would ever change.

Percy nodded in satisfaction and nudged Credence towards the couch. “Come on. Let’s sit and rest a while.”

“Can I ask you something?” Credence asked as they curled up together in the blanket nest on the couch. “When you hold me, can you…can you _feel_ my scars through my shirt?”

“No, I can’t. Maybe if you were wearing something really thin, I could.” Percy demonstrated this point by reaching up and rubbing slow, gentle circles on Credence’s back. “Does it hurt when I touch you?”

“No. I just…I’m always afraid,” he admitted in a voice that sounded tiny and childish even to him, “that…that you’ll…”

“That it’ll put me off you?” Percy supplied gently, and when Credence nodded he said firmly, “Sweetheart, _no_. Your scars do not, and never will, put me off. I hate that you got hurt. But I don’t hate to look at you because of it.”

Credence nodded slowly. “You’ve never seen them, though…the scars, I mean.”

“Do you want me to?” Percy asked bluntly, and his eyes widened in surprise when Credence nodded. “You don’t have to,” he reminded him. “We’re taking things slow, remember? Just because we’ve kissed, doesn’t mean you have to take your clothes off for me. You know that, don’t you?”

Credence nodded again. “I do. But I—I think I want you to know.” He turned around, grasped the hem of his shirt, and pulled it off like he was ripping away a band-aid.

“Oh,” he heard Percy say, sounding a little surprised. And then he shocked Credence into next week by asking, “May I touch you?”

 _Might as well…_ Credence swallowed hard. “Okay.”

The first touch of Percy’s fingertips on his bare back was feather-light, almost reverent, and Credence’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out an involuntary sigh. Percy tenderly mapped out the pattern of the scars, first with those light, careful touches and then with firmer, more confident strokes, until what remained of Credence’s fear trickled away and he found himself leaning into the touch.

He felt Percy shift behind him, felt him move closer until his back was pressed against Percy’s chest. “All right, love?” Percy whispered in his ear, his breath hot against Credence’s neck. “Still with me?”

“Yes,” Credence breathed, his eyes still closed, his head automatically falling back against Percy’s shoulder.

Percy buried his face in Credence’s neck and placed a luscious trail of kisses against the sensitive skin, making Credence squirm helplessly in his arms. “You taste so good,” he murmured. “And you’re so warm, so soft…God, Credence, I’ve just wanted to hold you like this, wanted it the very day I met you…”

His arms closed around Credence’s waist, hands drifting up across the practically concave stomach, up the ladder of his ribs, carefully mapping out every line and dip of his body as carefully as he had with Credence’s back—all the while kissing and nuzzling his neck. Credence let out a breathy moan, the combination of Percy’s lips on his neck and his hands everywhere else turning him on so much he actually felt dizzy.

He turned his head just in time to capture Percy’s mouth with his, in a kiss that was more teeth and tongue than actual touching of lips, and felt a twinge of hot satisfaction when Percy actually whimpered into his mouth. He felt wild, almost frantic with a need he’d never experienced before; he was so desperate for _more_ he was physically shaking. He grabbed Percy’s wrist and pressed his hand over his racing heart. “My heart—it’s so—you’re making me—” he tried to explain, and then his eyes rolled up as Percy’s hand contracted under his, nails scraping across his skin and making him quiver with pleasure.

“Me too, sweet thing, me too,” Percy moaned, his face pressed into Credence’s shoulder. “God, it’s been too long, you’re— _fuck_ , Credence, you’re so goddamn beautiful I’m gonna fuckin’ cry—”

That did it. Credence spun himself around in Percy’s lap and tackled him, the blanket nest cushioning the fall as Percy fell back with a gasp. He kissed Percy with a fierce desire that bordered on anguish, his entire body screaming _more, more, more_ as their tongues crashed together, Percy’s hands tangling frantically in his hair, his body pressing against Credence’s as if they’d die the moment they were separated.

They broke apart eventually and stayed still, trying to catch their breath. Percy was gasping as if he’d just run ten miles, his grip on Credence almost painfully tight. “ _Jesus_ ,” he groaned. “And here I thought you’d be all shy and nervous.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.” Worried that he’d somehow done something wrong, Credence tried to pull away…but Percy held him firm.

“No, no sweetheart, it’s a good thing, trust me.” He gave Credence’s shoulders a light, reassuring little squeeze. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Emboldened by the praise, and by the sight of Percy flushed and sprawled-out underneath him, Credence reached out and stroked his fingertips down the exposed line of Percy’s neck. “I want you,” he said plainly.

Percy let out a shaky laugh and reached up to catch Credence’s hand. “I know you do. I want you too, but…” His words were casual, but there was definitely underlying tension his voice. He sat up and carefully pushed Credence off. His movements were easy, his touch gentle, but there was something in his eyes Credence wasn’t sure he liked. “It’s too soon, love. Slow, remember?” he said, now looking very determinedly anywhere but at Credence.

Credence wasn’t sure how to feel. He recognized the sting of rejection (he’d felt _that_ often enough, for sure), and of course if Percy didn’t want to keep going he’d respect that…but something was wrong, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was all on him. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Percy’s head snapped up, and he seemed to realize his mistake. “Oh, fuck—oh, no, Credence, _I’m_ sorry.” He reached out to Credence, palms up in an obvious invitation that Credence promptly took. “I didn’t mean to make you think—I’m sorry. I just don’t want to rush this, and…” He sighed heavily and let go of Credence to run his hands through his own hair, frustration written clear across his face. “And I fucked it up. So now you think I don’t want you, and I know I haven’t got a prayer of convincing you otherwise. Damn it.”

“No!” Credence couldn’t understand what he was supposed to do, where they had gone wrong. Desperate to fix it he reached for Percy again, uncertainly trying to offer some sort of comfort. “I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I upset you, but if you tell me how to fix it—”

“Oh, no, come here…” Percy gently tugged Credence into his arms. “I’m sorry, love. You haven’t done anything wrong.” He held Credence close for a moment, letting the steady contact reassure them both, before he went on, “I’m just frustrated with myself, that’s all. My body wants something that my heart and mind aren’t ready for yet. Not unlike how you feel yourself, I’d imagine.”

And at last Credence understood. Percy _did_ want to make love right now, but just like the night of their almost-first kiss, he knew that it wasn’t the right time. And if he was honest with himself, Credence knew that too. It had taken an act of tremendous courage just to pull off his shirt for Percy; he could only imagine how terrifying it would be to actually get naked with him and—yeah, okay, he was blushing furiously at the mere thought of it. _Definitely_ not ready for that yet, no matter how good it felt to be close to Percy like this.

Percy gently rubbed Credence’s back as he continued, “The other thing, and I need you to understand this is _my_ problem, not yours, is that it upsets me to see you in pain. So when I thought that I’d made you feel unwanted, I was angry with myself for hurting you.” He drew back and held Credence at arm’s length so they could see each other, and said firmly, “ _I_ felt like that, Credence, you didn’t _make me_ feel like that. Understand?”

“Oh. But…you didn’t hurt me, really. You just confused me,” he said frankly. “Because I thought you liked what we were doing.”

“Oh, I did,” Percy assured him with a sheepish little grin that, for unknown reasons, made Credence’s heart race again. “I liked it very much. It’s just I don’t want our first time to be a messy, rushed affair on the couch.” He paused, and then added tentatively, “Especially as it’ll be… _your_ first time?” he guessed, and Credence nodded; no point in hiding his inexperience. Percy’s eyes fell shut and, inexplicably, he let out a choked little moan, as if…however impossibly…

“Do you _like_ that?” Credence asked, unable to hold back his surprised delight at the revelation.

“Are you kidding me?” Percy’s eyes snapped open again and he clutched Credence to his chest as if he were something precious. “To be the first one you trust enough, _want_ enough, to share that kind of intimacy…God, I’d be crazy _not_ to like that.”

Credence pulled back, just enough to see Percy’s face. “Really?” He’d been afraid Percy might be put off by his lack of experience.

“Oh darling, _yes_ ,” Percy assured him. He shifted them around a little, so that Credence was settled fully in his lap, one arm around his shoulders and the other wrapped protectively around his waist. “Sex is…well, it can be, and absolutely _should_ be, a beautiful thing. But it’s also scary, especially the first time. I don’t care if you’re on the top or bottom, you’re incredibly vulnerable, all the more so if it’s with someone you truly love. And for you to care for me enough to want to experience something that intense with me…oh, Credence. I’m honored that you feel that way about me, and I—” His voice cracked a little as he finished, “It’s mutual, sweetheart. Just—just know that.”

“Oh…” Overwhelmed with emotion, Credence buried his face in Percy’s neck, suddenly near tears for an entirely different reason. He loved Percy, he’d known that going in, but now…now it was _real_. Because Percy had just all but confirmed that he loved Credence, too. He didn’t have to say it. He knew. They both did.

And to Credence, the sensation of loving and knowing his love was returned was utterly foreign, and deeply overwhelming. He didn’t know how to handle the level of unrestrained love and joy he felt as he trembled in Percy’s arms…but he also didn’t know how he’d ever lived without feeling this way.

“You’re shaking,” Percy murmured, his hands running soothingly over Credence’s back again. “Are you all right?”

“Remember earlier,” Credence managed to push out, his words slightly muffled in Percy’s neck, “when I told you that I’d never felt so good in my life, after you kissed me?” When Percy nodded, Credence drew back and looked into his eyes, letting Percy see how happy he was. “I take it back. This feels way better.”

Percy stared at him for a moment, stunned, and then surged forward and kissed Credence within an inch of his life. Credence quickly got over the initial surprise and kissed back as if he’d been made for that purpose alone, his fingers twisting in Percy’s hair and pulling him in until they couldn’t get any closer.

“I want to stay with you tonight,” he blurted out when they finally managed to stop and draw breath. “Not—not for _that,_ I just—I want to be close to you. Is that—is that all right?”

“Oh God yes…if it were up to me, you’d never leave my sight again,” Percy assured him. “But I guess for now I’ll have to settle for holding you in my arms all night and taking you to your clinical in the morning.” He pressed their foreheads together, and this close, Credence saw there were tears in his eyes again. “My sweet Credence…oh, you don’t know what you mean to me. But I’m going to show you. Every day and, when we’re ready for it, every night.”

“I believe you,” Credence sighed against the lips that were already descending onto his.

~

They got ready for bed together, brushing their teeth side-by-side in Percy’s spacious bathroom before they slipped into Percy’s king-sized bed together. The mattress was so soft it felt like a cloud, and Credence didn’t think anything could be more comfortable…until Percy let him rest his head against his chest. “Oh,” he sighed, his entire body practically melting as Percy’s arms gently closed around him.

“Feel good?” Percy reached up and ruffled his hair. “I’m enjoying it too, love, believe me.” His voice cracked, just a little, as he said in a tone of one confessing something huge, “I…I used to imagine this. When I first met you, before I thought there was any hope that you might want me. You wearing my pajamas…brushing our teeth together…falling asleep in each other’s arms like this…”

Credence hid a smile against Percy’s chest. The thought of this handsome, sexy man, who could have absolutely anyone he wanted, daydreaming such innocently lovely things about him put butterflies in his stomach. “I used to imagine you holding me,” he admitted softly. “When I was scared…like, before the health assessment demonstration…I’d imagine you cuddling me and telling me everything would be okay.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” The arm looped around Credence tightened, and he felt Percy’s lips gently press against his forehead. Then, with a little laugh, he said, “You know, I’m too excited to sleep? It feels so good to have you in my arms I don’t want to miss it, you know what I mean?”

“I do.” Credence nestled even closer, tucking his head up under Percy’s chin. “Tell me,” he said as he slipped his hand under Percy's shirt and traced patterns over his chest with his fingertips, “what it was like when you moved here. From Ireland, I mean.”

Percy reached up to lazily brush away a stray lock of Credence’s hair before he answered, “I actually was born here. Well. I was born in New York, actually. Dad always moved around for work. We went back to Ireland when I was a year old, I think it was…then we came back to the States permanently when I was almost ten. I hated it at first, I’ll not lie. But I think I would’ve hated moving anywhere. I was lonely, I missed my friends…but I met Reuben and Seamus that summer, and then Sera and I met when I started school. It wasn’t so bad after that.” He craned his head just enough to give Credence another kiss on the forehead. “Now why don’t you tell me…your favorite memory with Queenie and Tina?”

“Oh…” Credence considered it for a moment. “A couple of months after I moved in with the Goldsteins, I found this old pile of records in the basement. Queenie and I were home alone together…she put on this old Clash album, and I heard ‘I Fought the Law’ for the first time, and I’d never heard a song before that made me feel… _excited_ , I guess is the right word. Ma had always said dancing was evil, but I couldn’t help it…my foot started tapping, and Queenie saw. She grabbed my hand, pulled me up off the couch and we danced, it was my first time doing that…Queenie told me, ‘you know what the title of this song means, Credence? It means _fuck the police_!’ and I couldn’t stop laughing and we were yelling _fuck the police_ over and over, and then we turned around and saw that Tina had just come home. And she just looked at us and said ‘well, isn’t _that_ a warm welcome.’”

Even now, the memory made him feel good. The look of dry amusement on Tina’s face, the way her sarcastic tone softened as she said _it’s good to hear you laugh, Credence_. The tender way Queenie had held his hands as she spun him around the room—he’d been afraid she would flinch at his scars, but she hadn’t even seemed to notice. The warmth that filled him as he realized, _this is my home now_.

Percy laughed too, even as he lightly ran a hand up and down Credence’s back. “Oh, that’s so sweet. I wish I could’ve seen it.” He sighed and gave Credence another gentle squeeze. “Did I ever tell you how I met Newt?” Credence shook his head. Percy laughed and said, “Oh, you should’ve seen it…he snuck his pet snake into the dorm. Sweet little ball python named Occamy. That thing loved him like a puppy. Would sit on his lap while he studied and cuddle up to him at night. And it was cute, except for one little problem…”

“What’s that?”

“I am absolutely _terrified_ of snakes.” When Credence lifted his head to give him a skeptical look, Percy burst out laughing. “No, really! First time I saw the thing it was just sitting on his bed, curled up around one of his sweaters and oh my God, Credence, I screamed like a _child_ …and _he_ yelled at me for scaring _the snake_! Oh, I absolutely hated him for a minute, I tell you…”

Credence knew they weren’t going to get much sleep that night. That was all right, he decided as he nestled back down against Percy’s chest. He’d stay awake for days, as long as he could listen to that lovely voice and feel those warm, strong arms holding him all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the abuse TW: There's no actual mention of how Credence got the scars, but he does show them to Graves for the first time. It's very intimate and tender and no actual discussion of abuse occurs, but it's an extremely vulnerable moment and it does reference his past (specifically, Graves says "I hate that you got hurt"). Additionally, early on in the chapter, Graves notices some red flags in Credence's behavior (waiting to be told "it's okay" before he lets Graves hold him, asking permission to get food, etc.) and thinks, "wow, this kid really needs therapy."
> 
> Spoilers for sex/sexual assault TW: Throughout the whole chapter, Graves is excessively concerned about obtaining consent and is nervous that he may have hurt Credence by kissing him, since he didn't get a "verbal yes." Later, they're making out on the couch, and Graves is initially into it, but gently rebuffs Credence when things get too heated, stating that he is not ready for further intimacy yet, then verbally berates himself for making Credence feel "unwanted," and Credence quickly corrects him. Since most of it happens from Credence's perspective, and he doesn't yet know what happened to Graves, there is no actual mention of rape or sexual assault, but Graves is fairly skittish when it comes to physical intimacy, and it's obvious enough that survivors could easily recognize what he's going through.
> 
> The McDonald's scene is dedicated to my best guy friend, who seems to be physically incapable of not freaking out when he sees me 1) dip fries in my hot fudge sundae (BUT WHY ELSE WOULD YOU GO TO MCDONALD'S?!??) or 2) use ranch sauce instead of BBQ for chicken nuggets. Yes, I shamelessly gave Credence my terrible eating habits...sorry not sorry Credence, that's what you get for being the Author Avatar ;P


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS GUYS GUYS I FINALLY DID IT I FINALLY ADDED AN AESTHETIC/MOODBOARD THINGY TO THE FIRST CHAPTER AAAAGH!
> 
> (why yes, I AM way too pleased with this accomplishment, thanks for asking ;P )
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -Both main characters have trauma-induced nightmares  
> -Brief discussion of past child abuse  
> -More discussion of well-intentioned attempts to control a friend's behavior  
> -An incident of discomfort re: alcohol use, and the reasons behind it  
> As always, see end notes for details/spoilers if any of that might be problematic for you. (But, for the record: most of this chapter is Soft Snuggly Feels, I swear.)

Graves woke with a start but not, thankfully, a shout. Not this time. He rolled over onto his back, gasping like he’d just outrun fifty hungry tigers, and tried to push away the lingering feeling of terror from the dream. He fervently wished that PTSD nightmares happened the way they did in movies, as trippy, blurry shot-for-shot retellings of a traumatic event, instead of the _Saw_ -like tortures to which his ever-helpful brain frequently subjected him.

He looked over at his sleeping boyfriend and shivered. Tonight it had been Credence lying lifeless and bloody in a hospital bed, Tina screaming that it was his fault while he stood helpless, dazed with pain and unable to perform any kind of life support, _that man_ shaking the walls with his triumphant, drunken laughter.

He reached out for Credence, but withdrew his hand at the last moment. Just a few hours ago they had settled into bed together for the first time, snuggled up like puppies, and whispered cute stories to each other until they fell asleep. That had been nice. That had been _beautiful_. No way in hell was Graves going to ruin it by waking up Credence for his own comfort.

He lay still and tried to force himself to relax, but even after the paralyzing terror wore off it was impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep again, and the fact that his heart was racing fast enough to burst and he was sweating bullets didn’t help. With a heavy sigh he clumsily eased himself out of bed, still a little loose-limbed and shaky from the spike and fall of adrenaline, and went to the bathroom. 

Ten minutes of sitting on the edge of the tub playing the five senses game, one perhaps ill-advised performance of the valsalva maneuver, and two very thorough applications of cold water to the face later, Graves had managed to lower his heart rate to a reasonable speed. He managed to navigate his way back to bed and was about to crawl in when he noticed…

When he’d left, Credence had been sleeping peacefully. Now, however…he didn’t moan or whimper or talk in his sleep—not surprising, given that he’d trained himself to cry silently—but there was a look of raw distress on his face that Graves had seen in the mirror far too many times to not know what it meant. “Credence, it’s okay,” he called softly as he knelt on the edge of the bed, careful not to loom over him (Newt had made that mistake exactly once; it had not ended well). “Sweetheart, can you hear me? You need to wake up.”

As if he’d been waiting for a cue, Credence’s eyes snapped open, slender body jolting involuntarily as if he’d been given an electric shock. “I’m sorry,” were the first predictable, but still heartbreaking, words to fall from his trembling lips. 

“Sh-h-h. Don’t be sorry, love. Are you all right? Can I come over there?” Graves waited for the answering nod before he slipped back under the covers. He held out his arms, and Credence immediately took the invitation. Graves could feel his entire body shouting _ahh, that’s better_ as his arms closed around Credence’s quivering form. “Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

After a moment of tense silence, Credence said softly, “You figured it out a long time ago, didn’t you…that’s why you were so nice to me…I told you that I was raised in a strict home, in a fundamentalist church…and you’ve seen the scars…please, Percy, don’t make me say it out loud.”

Graves cuddled him a little closer, relishing the feeling of Credence’s warm breath on his neck, his slim fingers clutching the back of Graves’ shirt like a lifeline. “That’s fine, darling. You don’t have to tell me any more. I understand.” And he did. Credence had just essentially confirmed that his scars and his skittish behavior were the results of abuse, and as much as Graves wanted to ask _where are your parents now, and would you mind terribly if I viciously murdered them,_ he tamped it down. Credence didn't need a display of aggression, well-intentioned or otherwise, right now. He just needed to know he was safe.

“It’s never Ma in the dreams anyway,” Credence admitted quietly. “I’m always drowning, or caught in a burning building, or buried alive, or—have you seen _Divergent_? You know how they put the kids from the brave warrior city in the danger simulator and they have to fight their way out? That’s how it feels.”

“Oh, Credence…I’m so sorry, love. Is there anything I can do?”

Credence hesitated a moment and then reluctantly said, “If you could just let go of me for a second I can get it…I just need to get my headphones out of my backpack. There’s this song, I…well. You don’t have to hear it, I’ll just—”

He started to pull away, but Graves gently made him stay still. “Whatever it is, put it on. I’ll hold you until you feel safe enough to sleep again.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if he thought Graves might change his mind and deny him what he needed, Credence rolled over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “It’s twenty minutes,” he warned Graves as he pulled up the song on YouTube. “If you get sick of it, just turn it off, usually I’m asleep before it’s over.”

“I won’t turn it off,” Graves promised. Credence set the phone back down on the nightstand and lay back down in Graves’ arms. “Get comfortable. Do whatever you need to do.”

Credence rested his head on Graves’ chest, just as they had earlier. “I don’t usually have someone with me when I have a nightmare. This is…new.”

“But it’s good?”

“Oh yeah. It’s good.” Credence tucked his head underneath Graves’ chin, a soft sigh of relief escaping him as the music started to play.

The song had a nice, low, steady beat, and the singer’s voice was very gentle; Graves could see within the first few minutes why Credence found it comforting. And then he listened to the lyrics: _Listen to the sound, let nothing disturb you…you are in a place where nothing can hurt you…if you feel a strange sensation, it can do no harm; like the spiral of creation, it will soon move on…_

 _Oh my God it’s not just a song,_ he realized, _it’s basically a guided meditation set to music_. He had to bite down on his lip to avoid laughing out of sheer delight: Credence, evidently without really knowing it, had been giving himself a makeshift form of therapy this whole time. _Oh, Credence…you sweet, clever little thing. You always surprise me, don’t you? Always find a way to take back what life steals from you, always find a way to go on…God, I don’t deserve you, but I’m going to try, for you, sweetheart, I will try…_

“I love you,” he whispered as the soft music played on. Credence didn’t respond; he was already asleep.

~

The alarm went off at 4:45. Credence heaved a sigh and reached for his phone to shut it off, only to realize that it wasn’t his phone that was ringing. And then the heavy arm around his waist contracted, and a warm breath caressed the back of his neck…and then he _remembered_.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” came the low, sleepy rumble of Percy’s voice. He let go just long enough to shut off his phone before turning back to Credence and wrapping him up in another warm hug from behind. “Mmm. You’re so soft…I may well never let you out of my bed again.”

“I don’t think Macusa would like that,” Credence couldn’t help but point out, even as he melted back into Percy’s arms. “Or the Goldsteins and Jacob, either.”

“No, they wouldn’t, but hang ’em, right?” Percy nuzzled into Credence’s neck, his lips soft and gentle against the sensitive skin. “I have an idea. But I want you to promise me you’ll say no if you’re even a _tiny_ bit uncomfortable, okay?” He waited for Credence’s nod before he went on, his voice trembling just the slightest bit, “I’d like to give you a back rub, if you’re all right with that. I want to do something intimate with you that’s not…that’s not all about sex, you understand? Do you think…maybe…we could try that?”

Credence nodded, just once, and the sigh of relief that came from Percy went straight to his heart. “I trust you,” he whispered.

“Oh, _Credence_ —” Percy sounded as if he may well cry. “All right, just—just stay put, I’ll be right back.” Credence felt him slide out of bed, then moments later felt the dip in the mattress as he got back in. He heard the sound of a cap being twisted off a glass bottle. “Can you pull your shirt up for me, sweetheart?” He did, a little hesitantly, and Percy said encouragingly, “Good, just like that. Now, if anything doesn’t feel right, stop me immediately.”

Credence tensed a little at the first touch…and then turned to jelly as Percy’s warm hands, slick with something that smelled like springtime, pressed gently into his shoulders and rubbed the tension right out of him. “ _Ohhh_ ,” he sighed as he melted into the mattress. “Oh, Percy. That’s… _oh_ …that feels so good.”

“I hope so. You deserve to feel good, my love.” Percy continued working him over with steady, firm strokes. It felt so amazing Credence couldn’t think straight. Percy’s hands were warm and smooth, and he applied just enough pressure to work the tension out of Credence’s body without causing him any pain. The sensation of Percy’s hands on his skin was so incredible it was precious, almost sacred. Credence felt calm and safe, protected and so, _so_ loved. 

Far too soon Percy stopped, and Credence felt a towel being passed over his skin before his shirt was pulled down again. “That’s it,” Percy murmured as he gently turned Credence over—a difficult process; considering Credence was so pliant he was nearly dead weight. “Mmm, I love seeing you like this, all nice and relaxed. How do you feel, sweetheart?”

 _Like you melted my brain_ , was the honest answer. It took a moment for the fog of pleasure to clear from his mind enough for Credence to even think about answering. When he could remember how to speak he said, “That was…that was _amazing_ , Percy. Thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me do it,” Percy replied as he brushed a few messy strands of hair out of Credence’s eyes. His hands still smelled faintly of lavender. “Will you look at me please?” he said, and Credence opened his eyes in time to see that Percy’s were filled with tears. “I shouldn’t say this yet, it’s too soon, but I…” He trailed off, his breath coming in little gasps, his eyes wet.

 _He looks at me_ , Credence realized in some distant part of his mind that still floated in a pleasure-drunk daze, _the way Jacob looks at Queenie._ Like the sun had vanished and left _him_ the central point of Percy's universe instead. He reached up and let his fingers brush over Percy’s wet cheek. “Are you crying?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Percy reached up and covered Credence’s hand with his own. “Credence, I…” More tears silently spilled free, and he sounded as if he were choking when he finally said, “I love you, Credence—I love you, and I swear, I—I will do the absolute best I can to prove it to you, to be _enough_ for you. Is that—is that all right, sweetheart?”

Credence almost laughed in pure amazement. On what planet, in what universe, in what _multiverse_ , could Percy possibly “not be enough” for him? Percy made him feel cherished and loved in a way he never had before and doubted he ever would again. Every move he made, every word he said, seemed to be specifically tailored to make Credence feel safe and comfortable. He was so good and kind and absolutely _wonderful_ …and yet he now wondered if he could be _enough_?

Credence didn’t hold back. “I love you too,” he said, and the look in Percy’s eyes was _everything._

~

When Credence got home from clinicals, he found Tina in his room again, sitting at the table with a thermos and a pair of mugs. “Hi,” she said nervously. “I, uh. I made coffee.”

“That was nice of you.” He entered the room cautiously. They hadn’t spoken more than the most basic of dialogue to each other since Percy had first tried to ask him out, and that had been nearly a month now. He wondered if she was here to offer another apology, but he didn’t have high hopes. _I’ve never once heard Tina say “I’m sorry” without a “but” coming after it_ , Jacob had once said in exasperation. It was true, and Credence knew it now more than ever.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to hear what she had to say, he supposed, so he sat down at the table with her. Silence reigned for a few tense minutes, coffee growing cold as they waited each other out. Finally Credence began, “So, I—” at the same time Tina tentatively said, “Credence—”

They both looked up, startled, and Tina shook her head. “Very smooth,” she said with a little smile. “You go first.”

“I guess Queenie told you where I was.” That was probably what she’d come here to discuss, after all. He'd texted Queenie to let her know he was staying the night with Percy, but in a moment of undeniable pettiness he hadn't copied Tina in on the message.

“She did.” Tina hesitated a moment and then, with the air of throwing caution to the wind, she burst out, “Credence, _please_ tell me you were safe, at least.”

“Of course I was, I was with Percy,” he said, confused.

“No, I mean—” Tina winced, and her face went red. “I mean, were you—did you use—um—protection?”

“Oh!” Credence blushed too as he realized what she was really asking. “That’s none of your business! But…for the record, nothing happened. I was upset after a bad day at clinical—I mean—I had a patient die,” he explained. “So Percy took care of me, he—he got me some food and took me back to his place so I could shower and—listen, it’s _none of your business_ ,” he repeated. Tears stung his eyes, but he forced them back. He would _not_ let Tina make his precious sleepover with Percy into something shameful.

“Okay, okay. I hear you.” Tina defensively held up her hands. “I’m not trying to give you the third degree here—”

“Yeah, well, that’s how it feels.”

“Fair enough. I actually came to apologize.” She sat there silently for a moment, perhaps waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she stretched out her arm across the table, palm held up, carefully offering a truce. He looked at her hand, but didn’t take it, and she had the good sense to pull back. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You mean a lot to me, and so does he, and I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing either one of you get hurt. But that’s no excuse for interfering the way I did. I know I’ll have to earn your trust back, and I can accept that. But I can at least promise that I will never, _ever_ pull a stunt like that again.”

He ached to forgive her. Credence hated fighting with _anyone_ , and he knew deep down that he owed Tina everything. If she hadn’t saved him from the church he never even would have met Percy…but the fact that she had gone behind his back, tried to hide that Percy had feelings for him, tried to _warn Percy away…_

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her face fell. “I can’t, Tina…you _hurt_ me.”

She nodded and quickly arranged her face into a neutral expression. “Okay. I understand. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“I don’t know.” He felt like he was going to cry again. “I don’t know, let me…let me think about it. I need more time, I can’t just—”

His voice rose in pitch as he spoke, and Tina thankfully recognized that as one of his warning signs. “Okay. Okay, I’m gonna go then, all right? I’m sorry. I won’t come to you again. I’ll wait until you’re ready to talk. I’m sorry, Credence, I’ll leave you alone now.”

She hastily retreated, and Credence took refuge in the shower. He spent the remainder of the afternoon studying, part of him hating himself for not forgiving her and the other part wishing she’d never speak to him again.

~

“I look ridiculous,” Credence complained, trying to dodge the powder-puff Queenie was repeatedly aiming in his direction.

“Nooo, you look cute,” she cooed as she shook the sparkly powder-puff over his head, causing glitter dust to rain down on his hair, ignoring his coughs and protests. “Dr. McDreamy is gonna love it, I promise.”

“If you call him that while he’s here, I will _cry_ , Queenie. I mean it.”

“You never cry. Not in front of people, anyway.”

“I cry in front of Percy,” he said without thinking, and realized his mistake when Queenie dropped the powder-puff and clapped both hands over her mouth, eyes going wide with shocked delight. “I know,” he said sheepishly. “Crazy, right?”

“I’ll say! Wow, sweetie…you really got it bad, huh? You know, from what Sera Picquery told me it’s mutual,” Queenie told him with a wicked grin. “When I was recruiting at Ilvermorny last week…let’s see, I think her exact words were, ‘he’s so whipped you could use him as a sundae topping.’”

Credence groaned and shook his head at the mental image. “Oh, fantastic.” He went to look in the mirror and, in spite of his nerves, smiled at his reflection. Queenie had truly outdone herself: she’d drawn Freddy Kruger scars all over his face and neck, then outlined his eyes with thick black winged eyeliner and topped it all off with blood-red lipstick, teased his hair into a wild tangle, and topped it off with the glitter powder.

“You look scary and hot,” she told him with a shameless grin. “He’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

Credence stayed in the basement a few minutes longer after she left, critically eyeing himself in the mirror. Once alone, he started to rethink everything—the gray cargo shorts were too short and tight; loose strategically-ripped sweater too revealing. How could he have thought this was a good idea? _Who the hell looks at Freddy Kruger and thinks “yeah, that, but make it sexy?”_ he scolded himself. 

He’d chosen this particular costume because he’d thought, very mistakenly, that it would feel empowering. He’d fallen in love with _Nightmare on Elm Street_ the first Halloween he’d spent with the Goldsteins, but had never told anyone just how much he loved the films or why—he just devoured them in secret, as if they’d be taken away once he was caught watching them. And when he saw the girls’ version of a “sexy Freddy Kruger” outfit at Spencer’s, he had the idea to make it his own…but now, faced with the thought of Percy actually _seeing_ him in the costume, he was ready to bolt for the hills.

But it was too late now. Queenie came back down to get him before he could pull off the costume and hide under his bed, so before he could say _wait this is a bad idea,_ he was hauled upstairs and shoved into the living room, where a dozen of the Goldstein girls’ friends had already begun to mingle. Queenie and Jacob absolutely _loved_ Halloween, and every year they had a party on Halloween night. Credence never loved parties in general, but he usually enjoyed this one if only because Halloween was one of the few holidays he actually liked. But tonight he was too nervous to enjoy it. He couldn't decide if he wanted Percy to hurry up and get there, or if he should run downstairs and hide in the basement again while he still could...

...until he felt a pair of familiar arms close around his waist from behind, and a soft Irish voice sang quietly into his ear, “ _One, two, Freddy’s coming for you._ ”

Credence turned around and let out a little gasp of excitement when he saw that Percy was dressed as Jason from _Friday the 13th._ He’d pushed his mask up so Credence could see that it was him, but the costume was unmistakable. “We match,” Credence said, unable to hide his surprise.

“I didn’t plan this,” Percy admitted with a sheepish little grin. “I just wear this pretty much every Halloween. Costume planning really isn’t my forte.”

“I don’t care. It’s perfect.” Credence let a little moan escape as Percy slid a hand up under the hem of his sweater and caressed his lower back, right at the base of his spine. “Not here,” he protested weakly, and then promptly undermined his own words by blurting out, “ _Oh_ , that feels good.”

“I won’t take it too far, sweetheart.” Percy withdrew and held up both hands as if to show he was unarmed. “I just wanted to touch you, just a little. You just look so _unbelievably_ hot that I couldn’t help myself,” he said, and Credence promptly forgot every concern he’d had about Percy not liking his costume.

It was a good party, as all of Queenie’s parties were, but as always, Credence’s favorite part was that she played vintage black-and-white horror movies on the living room TV the whole night. He ended up spending most of the party curled up in Percy’s arms as they watched those old Universal horror films. Occasionally one of the Goldsteins’ friends would come in and watch a bit of the movie, but mostly they were left alone, which of course suited them just fine.

Halfway through _Creature from the Black Lagoon_ , Percy turned to Credence and said, “I’m getting a drink. Want one?” Credence said no, and Percy left and came back with the signature drink that Queenie had picked, a candy corn martini. “Sounds just disgusting enough to be delicious,” he said with a grin, and took a long drink. “Wow. That is…a lot sweeter than I thought it would be. Not bad, but...definitely not one I would've thought up myself.” He offered the glass to Credence. “Sure you don’t want to try it?”

Credence instinctively cringed away, and then kicked himself for it when he saw the look of mingled surprise and concern on Percy’s face. “Um. No. I don’t drink. I’ve never really been comfortable with…stuff like that. Like, alcohol or pot or...anything.” He cringed at the memory of the boy he’d met in the club: _ugh, God, don’t be such a baby, it’s not going to kill you._

Percy quickly put the drink down, looking far more distressed than Credence thought the situation warranted. “Oh God…I didn’t know, love. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Credence assured him. “It’s nothing bad, just…I never had alcohol before I moved out. Then I tried it a couple of times but I didn’t like it, it made me feel…helpless.” He winced as he said it; it sounded stupid even to him. “And I really hate the way other people act when they drink, too…bars kind of scare me…I know it’s stupid, but…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“No, _no_ , that’s not stupid at all. I understand why that would make you nervous, believe me I do,” Percy said as he gave Credence a comforting squeeze. “I won’t drink in front of you, then, if it makes you that uncomfortable.”

“Percy, no—that’s not fair to you, really, you don’t have to—”

“Sweetheart, I _want_ to. Listen to me…” He gently cupped Credence’s chin in his hand and made Credence look into his eyes. “I understand what it’s like to feel helpless. It’s _awful_ , and believe me, Credence, there is absolutely _nothing_ I wouldn’t do to spare you that, I—” He broke off and let go of Credence’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

“What are you sorry for? You’re amazing.” Credence scooted closer to Percy on the couch. He took off the Freddy Kruger fedora so he could tuck his head into the crook of Percy’s neck and smiled when he felt Percy’s arms close around him. “No one has ever made me feel safe like you do, Percy. I mean it.”

“Good. I want you to always feel safe with me.” Percy cuddled him like a child, and for a long moment there was nothing but the rhythm of their hearts beating as one, and all was peaceful until…

“Well, well, what’s this?” came a new, vaguely familiar voice. Credence and Percy both jumped and pulled apart a little, and Credence looked up to see Dr. Seraphina Picquery standing over them, dressed as the Other Mother from _Coraline_. “Are we breaking a few fraternization rules here, Percy?”

“You do _not_ get to call me that, for the hundredth fucking time,” Percy all but growled, but his touch was as gentle as ever as he nudged Credence the rest of the way off his lap.

“Oh, but he does?” Dr. Picquery said with a knowing grin as she settled into the chair next to their couch. “Well, I have to say, when you said you were poaching one of my students this is not the one I would’ve thought you wanted. He usually likes them older,” she added to Credence as an afterthought.

Percy let out a real growl this time. “Jesus Christ, Sera, I will _end you_ —”

“Calm down, you drama queen,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “We’re all grown-ups here. And just so _you_ know,” she told Credence, “this idiot has been one of my best friends since fifth grade and if you break his heart I’ll get you transferred to community college.”

“It’s all right,” Credence quickly assured his red-faced boyfriend. “I know she’s teasing. I don’t mind.” And he didn’t. He’d always been a little afraid of Dr. Picquery; she was intimidating and he was her student…but seeing her at a party, wearing a Halloween costume and teasing her best friend, well. That changed things. “I really like your costume,” he told Dr. Picquery. “I love _Coraline_.”

“There, you see, Percy? He’s fine…and clearly has very good taste in movies,” she added with a smile. “Now, Credence, is this old grump _really_ what you want? Better be sure now, he tends to latch onto his boyfriends like a lamprey eel.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Percy groaned, letting his head drop to Credence’s shoulder. “Seraphina Picquery, for the love of God, I will _pay you_ to shut up.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said cheerfully. “Embarrassing the shit out of you in front of your boyfriends is our longest-running tradition and that’s not going to change just because you had the terrible idea of dating one of my students. By the way, not asking my blessing to date my best friend? _That_ is a fail-worthy offense, just so you know, Credence; I’ve half a mind to transfer you after all.”

Credence decided, despite Percy’s furious under-his-breath cursing, to play along. “I’m sorry,” he told Dr. Picquery in as contrite a tone as he could manage, unable to keep his lips from quirking into a smile. “May I have your permission to date Percy, please, Dr. Picquery? I know I’m not really what you were expecting, but I promise I’ll take very good care of him.”

Clearly she hadn’t anticipated that, because she laughed so hard she choked on her drink. “Oh, I _like_ this one,” she gasped as she wiped away tears of laughter. “Oh, you are going to be so good for him, I swear.”

“Why does everyone think I need looking after? First Reuben, now you,” Percy complained. “I don’t need to be ‘taken care of,’ I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, please. You’re useless on your own and we all know it. I could tell you stories,” she told Credence with a wicked grin. “This absolute _dumbass_ came in to our first day of emergency care clinicals with a broken wrist.”

“Well, yeah,” Percy said, exasperated. “What, was I supposed to skip clinical?”

“No, but you could’ve mentioned it to our professor before you came in…then again it makes sense you didn’t say anything, given that you did it on purpose to get out of going to the OR…”

“I did _not!_ I told you a hundred times it was a damn accident!”

Credence laid his head against Percy’s shoulder and listened to their banter, absorbing various interesting bits of trivia about his boyfriend. This went on until Dr. Picquery finally, graciously left them alone, but not before teasing Percy one last time about the apparently-unusual age difference.

“Don’t listen to her,” Percy grumbled after she left. “She makes it sound like I won’t sleep with anyone younger than Ian McKellan. It’s not like that.”

“I don’t care who you were with before me, Percy. Really, I don’t.” Credence scooted in close and let Percy cuddle him again, now that they were alone.

“ _Do_ you mind the age difference, though?” Percy asked a little anxiously. They had never really discussed that. “I never even asked how old you were…just took it for granted that Tina told me your real age…”

“I’m twenty-five—no, sorry, twenty-six now,” Credence quickly corrected, and when Percy’s eyes went big he realized his mistake. “Oh—I mean—”

“When did you turn twenty-six?” Percy cut him off.

“A month ago,” Credence admitted, and winced when he saw the hurt on Percy’s face. “Okay, just remember we weren’t dating yet…it’s not like I kept it _just_ from you, not on purpose. No one at school knows except Dr. Scamander, and—” He cringed again when he realized that was likely to only upset Percy more. “And he forgets every year, so…I’m sorry, Percy.”

“Hey, I mean…Newt forgets my birthday too, if it makes you feel better.” Percy forced a little smile. “When’s your birthday, then?”

“September thirtieth.”

Percy’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Fuck, that’s…wow. That was the night that I…that I first tried to ask you out. Is that why you didn’t get the texts? Because you were out celebrating? Is that why Tina had your phone?”

Credence shook his head. “No, Tina borrowed my phone because she couldn’t find hers. I didn’t do anything for my birthday this year. I had too much work, I didn’t want to go out, and I never really have a party anyway because, well, counting you I have exactly four friends, so…”

“Okay. But…” Percy hesitated a little and then said, “How offended would you be if I got you something, or took you out somewhere special? It would be late, obviously, but—”

“You don’t have to,” Credence said quickly. “I wouldn’t be _offended._ I don’t, like, hate birthdays or anything, I just…didn’t really have a birthday growing up, I mean. I knew when it was, for school and stuff. But it was just another day. So. I’m not really…I don’t know…” He trailed off and hid his face in Percy’s chest.

Percy, as always, understood what he wasn’t saying. “It’ll upset you, won’t it, if I spoil you too much. Because you aren’t used to being treated like that, and it’ll just make you uncomfortable.” Credence nodded against Percy’s chest, relieved to no end that Percy _got it_. “What about just a little bit of spoiling every now and then, sweetheart? Will that be all right? I want to do nice things for you, I want to take you places and give you presents and the like…but if you’re going to hate that, I won’t do any of it.”

It was not a question he’d ever expected to be asked, but at the same time it was so typical _Percy,_ and it made him feel warm inside. “Yeah, a little bit is okay,” Credence conceded. “Just…don’t, I don’t know. Don’t do anything for me you wouldn’t do for, like, Lilah or Dr. Scamander or Dr. Picquery. Okay?”

“Fair enough.” Percy squeezed him close. “And…Credence?”

“Yeah?”

Percy’s lips brushed the temple of Credence’s head, and his voice dipped low and soft as he said tenderly, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too.” The novelty of saying it had yet to wear off, and Credence almost felt as if he’d burst from the maelstrom of emotion that swirled inside him as he lay there with his head tucked into Percy’s chest and those warm, strong arms holding him close. _I’m allowed to say it_ , he thought, delirious with happiness. _I’m allowed to love him. It’s real. It’s happening. I’m allowed to love Percival Graves, and he loves me back._

Credence loved Halloween, had enjoyed every time he’d celebrated it with the Goldsteins…but this was easily the best one he’d ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PTSD nightmare spoilers: At the very beginning of the chapter Graves wakes up from a PTSD-induced nightmare, in which he is paralyzed and forced to watch Credence die in a hospital bed, while Tina blames him for Credence's death and an unnamed man laughs at him. The dream is briefly described in summary and we don't "see" it as the audience. He gets out of bed to try and recover, then returns to find that Credence also is having a nightmare, so he wakes Credence up and comforts him. Credence's nightmare is not seen by the audience either; he describes it as being trapped in the fear simulator from Divergent.
> 
> Past abuse spoilers: After waking from his nightmare, Credence confirms to Graves that his mother physically abused him as a a child (“I told you that I was raised in a strict home…and you’ve seen the scars…please, Percy, don’t make me say it out loud.”) At the very end, there is also some discussion of why Credence didn't tell Graves when it was his birthday, and he admits he "didn't really have a birthday growing up."
> 
> Controlling behavior spoilers: Tina seeks out Credence to apologize to him, but once again attempts to justify her interference. Credence can't really deal with that and basically tells her "no, you hurt me, I can't let it go yet." She retreats and assures him that she will not try to talk again until he is ready.
> 
> Alcohol spoilers: Graves has a drink at a party and tries to offer it to Credence, who has a visceral "no get it away from me" reaction, then explains that he's not comfortable around alcohol or drugs, mainly because he doesn't like the loss of control that comes with using substances, but also because he doesn't like the social pressure to use them anyway (he remembers being told by a date, "don't be such a baby, it's not going to kill you.")
> 
> The Valsalva Maneuver is a "natural" way to slow down your heartbeat. There is a nerve that runs from your brain through the length of your torso, and if you pinch your nose and try to breathe out (or strain down as if you're constipated) your heart rate will slow down. I need to put a disclaimer here and say DO NOT FREAKING DO THIS UNLESS YOU HAVE BEEN DIRECTED TO DO SO BY A DOCTOR, OR YOU COULD SERIOUSLY HURT YOURSELF. *shakes finger at Graves, who is a medical professional and Really Should Know Better*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. Buckle up y'all because this one Gets Heavy. Much like #6, it's another one that addresses the Cold Hard Reality of being in an intensive academic program where you're regularly given a shitload of responsibility and very little emotional/mental support. (There will be more fluff soon, I promise. Always assume fluff will succeed angst. ;) )
> 
> So with that in mind, here's the TW list for this chapter (I am so, so sorry, you guys):  
> -MASSIVE panic attack (Credence)  
> -Discussions of severe child abuse (Credence)  
> -Allusions to past sexual assault (Graves)  
> -Discussions of teacher abuse, and victim self-blaming re: that abuse (Credence)  
> -Discussions of bad mental health care, blaming self for not being successful in therapy (Also Credence)  
> -School-related stress handled with unhealthy coping mechanisms (...guess who :P )
> 
> See end notes for TW spoilers/descriptions.

**lilah.l: I’m happy for you, super-happy actually. but please tell me you two didn’t…all the way. don’t think I can handle that right now.**

**dr_graves: YOU can’t handle it?**

**lilah.l: oh for shits sake...you know what I meant.**

**dr_graves: Lucky for you, I do.**

**lilah.l: so???? what happened????**

**dr_graves: We just slept. Nothing happened. I can’t lie, though, I really wanted to. I trust him. Maybe more than I should.**

**lilah.l: yeah? you think you might love him… “tHaT wAy” ???**

**dr_graves: Honestly, I think I love him in every way.**

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

Graves nearly dropped his phone. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he scolded Newt, who in his customary fashion had popped up out of nowhere reay to annoy everyone in the vicinity, judging by the bowl of very strongly-scented food in his hands. “Jesus. Think you used enough garlic there, Butch?”

Newt rolled his eyes as he took the seat next to Graves. “My students said the same thing. Hence, my exile.”

Graves looked over his shoulder in the direction from which Newt had come, and smirked to himself when he saw the wary looks aimed in their direction from a pack of burgundy-clad Ilvermorny kids. The Macusa dining room was fairly sizeable, but the students were barely far enough away to be out of earshot, and it was obvious that Newt had directed them to that table so he could have the chance to talk to Graves without leaving them fully unsupervised. “Very smart of them. So I take it today is a clinical day?”

“Every Thursday and Friday.” He cocked his head towards Graves’ phone. “Did I interrupt something important?”

“Oh. No, uh. Just telling Lilah about…the other night.” He pushed his phone aside and took a bite of his lunch, trying and failing to look casual.

Newt’s eyebrows shot up. “The other night,” he repeated suggestively. “That sounds quite...promising.”

Graves rolled his eyes. “You and Lilah, Jesus. She was just asking me if we’d had sex yet, too.”

“Well, see, there’s the difference between her and I—you don’t have to tell me that you two haven’t, I just know.” At Graves’ sharp look, Newt chuckled and reminded him, “We were _roommates,_ my dear. You think I can’t spot your _I just got shagged_ look from a mile away?”

“We’re trying to take it slow,” Graves managed to get out, glaring down at his lunch. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It sure as hell was when I dried your tears after every one of your breakups in college. And NCLEX prep. And orientation. And grad school,” Newt laughed shamelessly. Then he sobered. “Graves…it _is_ none of my business, but…does he _know?_ ”

Graves sighed heavily and shook his head. “No, and I don’t think I want him to. He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need my shit on top of his.”

“You do realize that if he finds out—”

“—he’ll hate me for not telling him? Yeah, worked that out, thanks.”

“No,” Newt said patiently, “I was going to say, if he finds out he’ll understand.”

“That’s actually what I’m afraid of,” Graves admitted. “He’s just…he’s so _good._ I don’t want him to feel the way I feel whenever he mentions that shithead mother of his.” He scowled down at his food again, appetite suddenly gone. “God, who the hell beats their kid like that?”

“Terrible people, that’s who, and don’t change the subject,” Newt chided him gently. “Are you afraid of hurting him, really? Or are you afraid he’s going to judge you for what happened?”

“Definitely the first one.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and admitted quietly, “The thing is, Newt, what happened to me was…God, fucked-up doesn’t even begin to cover it…but in the end it was...it was only _one part_ of my life, you know? It happened, and I hate that it did, but at least I can tell myself _it's not the only thing to ever happen in your life and it doesn't define you._ But Credence? He lived a nightmare every day for twenty years. I can’t imagine being a prisoner in my own home, and having that be my _whole life._ _”_

“Don’t even think of going there,” Newt warned him. “You know what your therapist would say if he heard you comparing your trauma to Credence’s.”

Graves did know, and Newt was right, but that didn’t change the way he felt about it. “I’m not telling him. It’s in the past, there’s nothing he can do to fix it, and knowing will only hurt him.” And before Newt could form a rebuttal, Graves’ phone went off and he snapped it up, hoping it was the person whom they’d just been discussing. It was, but—

 **Dr. Picquery just emailed me, she wants me to meet her on Monday to talk about my clinical performance,** the text read, and oh, lord, Graves could just _hear_ Credence’s voice trembling in his ear, could feel the panic coming off the screen in waves. And then the next one came, and shattered Graves’ heart: **I think she’s going to kick me out.**

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, _God damn it_ , Sera, what are you doing…”

“What is it?” Newt asked, leaning over to see the screen.

“Lockhart fucking happened,” Graves snapped, standing up and hastily shoving his things back into his bag. “Sorry, but I have to go. Credence needs me.”

He all but sprinted back to the locker room and made the call the second he was alone. Credence answered on the second ring. “Percy?” he whispered into the phone, every bit as scared and vulnerable as Graves had thought he would be.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay.” He sank down onto the nearest bench, pressing the phone to his ear as if he could make Credence feel his touch if he held on tightly enough. “I’m here,” he promised helplessly, even as he heard the almost-silent storm of tears beginning on the other end of the line. “I’m here for you, my love. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was an empty promise and he knew it. All he could do was offer Credence his love and support and pray to any and all hypothetical gods that it would be enough.

~

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Dr. Picquery said as Credence squirmed in his seat.

When he’d gotten her email the day after Halloween, the happy, floaty feeling that he’d gotten from his time with Percy had promptly evaporated. He hadn’t slept much in the three days since he’d got that email, and he’d been tired and listless at clinicals all weekend, sure that the blow had finally come and that Dr. Lockhart had put in the request to have him expelled. 

The only thing that kept him from completely falling apart was that he knew Percy was waiting for him, having driven him to the appointment and told him all the way there, _it’s okay, she won’t kick you out, but even if by some odd chance she does I’ll still love you._

Now Dr. Picquery gave him an expectant look, and he cleared his throat and managed to say, “No, ma’am. I think I know.” She looked surprised, and he knew if he was going to plead his case he had to do it now. “Please, Dr. Picquery, can I have one more chance? I know I haven’t done well in clinical—but please don’t expel me yet, I’ll do better, just—”

“Whoa, whoa,” she cut him off, “hold on there. Oh, goodness. I’m sorry, I thought my email made it clear…you aren’t in trouble, Credence. I just have some questions for you about what’s been going on in your clinicals.”

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding, hoping against hope that she wasn’t just trying to soften the blow. “Okay,” he managed. “Okay. I can…I can handle that.”

“Glad to hear it.” She pulled up something on her tablet. “I have an email here from a Macusa RN named Hermione Granger, I believe you know her?” At his tentative nod, she informed him, “She told me you fainted after you participated in a code.”

Credence cringed at the memory. “I’m so sorry,” he said anxiously. “I know that was incredibly unprofessional of me, it won’t happen again though, I swear I—”

“Credence, please listen to me very carefully.” Dr. Picquery looked at him expectantly and waited for him to nod before she said, “ _You are not in trouble,_ I promise. I just need you to tell me if it’s true that after you passed out, Dr. Lockhart slapped you, shouted at you in front of the other students, and left you lying on the floor.”

Credence nodded miserably. “I’m so sorry. It _is_ true. Hermione had to neglect her real patients while she…looked after me.”

“She did what Dr. Lockhart _should_ have done,” Dr. Picquery said firmly. “Was that your first code?” Credence nodded again, and she looked at him very closely as she asked, “What other sorts of interactions have you had with Dr. Lockhart?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “He’s all right, really. It was me. It was just a—a bad code. Hermione said that she’d seen others get sick or feel faint after a bad code, it wasn’t Lockhart’s fault, I—I was just—I’m sorry.”

“The issue is not that you passed out,” she told him patiently. “Hermione is right, that could happen to anyone. What I’m trying to understand is why your teacher neglected and mistreated you when you were in a highly vulnerable position.”

“He was busy?” Credence offered weakly, and quivered under the raised-eyebrow stare he got from Dr. Picquery. “Please don’t,” he begged her. “I don’t want a fight. I just want to finish school.”

“I know,” she said. “You want to finish school so badly that you’re going to let someone get away with abuse. That’s…concerning.” She watched him pensively for a moment and then stood up, went to the door of her office, and stuck her head into the hall. “Hey, Dr. Graves, you want to maybe come in here and make yourself useful?”

Credence’s heart leaped when Percy followed Dr. Picquery in from the hallway and took the chair beside him. “Just so you know, Seraphina, I’m going to consider this that favor I owe you.”

“Oh, please. As if you haven’t been chomping at the bit to come in and hold his hand the whole time.” She skewered with Percy her raised-eyebrow _yeah, right_ look, then turned back to Credence and said much more gently, “Now, do you think maybe you can tell me exactly what it is that Dr. Lockhart has done over the last couple of months?”

Credence looked over to Percy, who wasted no time in scooting his chair close and looping a gentle arm around his shoulders. “You can tell her, sweetheart,” he assured Credence in a low voice. “She just wants to help.”

Hesitantly at first, and then with more conviction as it became apparent that no one in the room was going to condemn him, Credence poured out the whole story, starting with Dr. Lockhart grabbing him by the arm on the first day and ending with what he’d said when he wrote up Credence’s PIP. The whole time, Dr. Picquery looked increasingly troubled, while Percy seemed to get more and more furious. “I didn’t know it was so bad,” he said when Credence was done. “God, I’m so sorry. I should have made you come forward a long time ago.”

Dr. Picquery went to her file cabinet. “I’ll need you to write all of that down,” she said, passing a blank form to Credence. “We’re going to submit a formal complaint to the board. I can’t fire him outright because he’s adjunct, but good God. This kind of behavior is absolutely inexcusable.”

“I should have told someone,” Credence murmured, a sudden, inexplicable feeling of shame sweeping over him.

“Hey, none of that,” Percy reprimanded him gently. “You were afraid, and after the way he’s treated you I can see why.”

Dr. Picquery nodded her agreement, a look of grim resignation on her face. “Believe me, Credence, you’re not the first student who’s kept silent for fear of retaliation and, sadly, it’s not likely you’ll be the last.”

“She’s right, unfortunately.” Percy rubbed Credence’s back and said reassuringly, “But it doesn’t have to be that way. We’re going to try and fix this, all right?”

Credence took the pen and, with a little more encouragement, filled out the form in front of him, and tried to make himself believe that they _could_ fix it, a sick, gnawing feeling curling in his stomach the entire time.

~

Things should have gotten better after that, but they didn’t.

The health assessment class had ended in October, but right away an online class dedicated to nursing research had taken its place. Credence was good at taking tests; he had a strong memory and was good at analyzing data, but he did not like to write papers and this class was all papers and no tests. He felt guilty for not taking on more hours at the pharmacy now that he only had one in-person class, and clinical only two days a week, but he didn’t see how he could find the time.

Percy tried to be understanding and when Credence canceled a date to work on a nursing research assignment he came over to help, even going so far as to bring take-out from Rueben’s diner and some of his old papers from his own nursing research classes. “I’m sorry,” Credence said when they’d been working for three hours. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to do tonight. I tried to have it done so we could do something fun, but—”

“Sweetheart, this is exactly what I want to do right now,” Percy quickly assured him. “I’ll never be disappointed in you for needing to put your schooling first, Credence. I’ve been where you are, remember? I know how hard this is. I’ll do anything that I can to help, all right? Seriously, just ask and I’ll make it happen.”

That should have made Credence feel better—and yet, impossibly, it did not. 

He had to admit, though, it _did_ help when, after the paper was finished and turned in, Percy laid him out on his bed, drew the curtains shut, and proceeded to kiss and caress and hold him for a solid hour. Credence almost _(almost)_ managed to silence the guilty little whine at the back of his head telling him that making out with Percy was a waste of time as they lay there together, tangled up in each other’s arms and kissing with a passion that bordered on desperation.

Credence had never watched porn—he’d barely even descended to touching himself, let alone actively sought out visual aids—but he’d heard whispers in the locker rooms, in the schoolyard, even in the Goldsteins’ house. He knew some of the possibilities that awaited if he were bold enough to voice his desires. _What if he let me get him off?_ he wondered as he lay with his head on Percy’s chest while Percy played with his hair. _I wonder what he looks like when he comes…_ Credence had only ever facilitated a scant handful of furtive, nervous orgasms in himself, but he knew enough about what pleasure felt like to know that he _ached_ to see how Percy would look when he was lost in the throes of it.

A little shiver ran through him at the thought: Percy splayed out beneath him, moaning Credence’s name as he fell apart under his touch. The fingers in his hair briefly stilled, and then resumed stroking and tugging and _oh_ , that felt good… Credence shivered again, heart beating fast, almost painfully hard but too shy to ask Percy for relief. _Next time_ , he told himself as they fell asleep that night. _Next time I’ll ask him to touch me…or…_ (this with another pleasurable shiver) _I’ll ask if I can touch him…_

But there wasn’t a “next time,” because for the next few weeks he only got to see Percy at clinical, as he had to cancel their dates to do schoolwork. And still, even more impossibly, things got _worse_.

Dr. Picquery tried hard, according to Percy, to get Dr. Lockhart suspended, but the best she could get the board to agree to was to allow him to finish out the semester with the understanding that he would not be invited back for the next one. He found out, of course, that the grounds for his dismissal was his treatment of Credence, and being too crafty to outright fail him he got his revenge in other ways: medication passes with tons of complicated drugs, difficult and advanced patient assignments, points knocked off of his data sheets and care plans. Credence was forced to resort to extra credit assignments to make up lost clinical points, which further compromised his already-packed schedule.

And it did not help, not in the least, that Credence still wasn’t speaking to Tina. She had always been an ally before even if they hadn’t agreed on everything, and he missed talking to her. But even if she’d been trying to help, she had still betrayed him, and when he tried to think of something she could do to make it right, he came up with nothing. And so the rift grew, and he was cut off from what had previously been a great source of comfort and support.

He had to study for the HESI, which the seasoned students jokingly referred to as the “nursing SATs.” He had to study for his finals, even though they were six weeks away, because he’d gotten a low grade on the last test in Fundamentals (a 77%, the absolute lowest possible passing grade) and had to make up for it. He had to work, he had to keep Percy happy, he had to pass clinicals—

The week before Thanksgiving he got back his grade for a very difficult nursing research assignment, and when he saw it was another 77 he was devastated but couldn’t bring himself to confide in Percy, or even Queenie. He felt too ashamed of his failure to tell anyone, just silently resolved to do better next time and blew off another date with his boyfriend to study and do homework.

It did not make him feel better in the slightest when Percy texted him later that night to inform him that Queenie had specifically requested that Percy come over for Thanksgiving, and was Credence all right with that? Credence knew the holiday would be awkward either way since he and Tina still weren’t really speaking, and it might make him feel slightly better if Percy were there. Was it rude, he wondered, to invite someone over knowing that Tina had a problem with him, and not ask her if it was all right? But…a tiny ember of anger caught fire…she hadn’t asked _his_ permission to tell Percy his secrets…she hadn’t cared about violating _his_ boundaries when she’d deleted his messages…

Ultimately Credence said yes. It was going to be an emotionally exhausting day, Credence knew it before they’d even finished planning, and while he loved that Percy wanted to spend the day with Credence and his (found) family, he couldn’t help but wish that he could just have some time to _rest_. But Percy wanted this, and he wanted to be with Percy, and he was willing to make the sacrifice.

And then, of course, as it always did, everything blew up.

The day before Thanksgiving Percy came over, ostensibly to help Credence make candy for their host gifts, but really because they’d had little time together in the last three weeks and were, though neither of them would admit to it, fairly desperate to be alone together. Later Credence would reflect that if only they had worked upstairs in the house kitchen, rather than the tiny kitchenette that Queenie had set up in his basement apartment, everything would have been _fine_.

It started off so good, as always. Before they’d even taken their coats off Percy lifted Credence onto the little two-person dining table and discovered it was just the perfect height for kissing, which they did for several frantic minutes before Percy pulled away and admitted in a raw, aching voice, “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart.”

It was meant to be tender, Credence knew that, but it just worsened the sick, gnawing feeling of discomfort that had been growing inside him like Rosemary’s baby for the last few weeks. _I’ve made him suffer_ , he thought unhappily, even as Percy fell to kissing and nuzzling his neck. Usually Credence would have been thrilled, but now he felt too anxious and guilty to enjoy it.

Percy seemed to sense that Credence wasn’t enjoying himself, because he quickly backed off and suggested they get to work. So they did, melting chocolate on the tiny cooktop and spreading it out into pans where it could be topped off with peanuts, pretzels, and fall-themed candy. The familiarity of the work steadied Credence a little, and before long they were talking and laughing and working together with ease.

Percy was teasing him about the layout of his apartment when _it_ happened. “I still can’t get over the fact that you sleep under the stairs…it’s so cute,” he said with a delighted little laugh.

“That was all Queenie,” Credence told him, unable to hold back a grin. “She designed the whole thing. Honestly I’m glad she did…it was the first month I lived with he Goldsteins and if they’d asked what I wanted, I probably would’ve freaked out. And she did an amazing job, everything was repurposed from a thrift store or built out of what was already here.”

“Wow. Yeah, she did good.” Percy looked around the room while Credence sprinkled candy corn on their latest batch of chocolate bark. “Should we be playing music or something? It feels like this should be more…I don’t know, festive?”

“Sure. There’s a speaker dock in my closet if you want to hook your phone up,” Credence said carelessly, and then jerked his head up as he realized what he’d just done. “Percy, wait—”

It was too late. Percy had already flung open the door and seen that, in addition to the clothes that clearly betrayed that this was Not A Pantry, there were boxes of food crammed into the tiny closet. For a moment he looked between that closet, and the little free-standing shelf beside the kitchenette that held the official food supply, and then, slowly, he turned around and asked, in a voice just a shade too casual, “So, I take it you have a Costco membership?”

“Um. No. Can’t afford it. I…I just keep stuff in weird places because I don’t have a lot of storage space down here…” A lie. The basement was 900 square feet, bigger than most one-bedroom apartments; even counting the space that was taken up by gardening and pool supplies, Credence had plenty of storage. There was no reason for boxes of nonperishable food to be hidden in his closet. “I just like to have a backup supply, you know, in case I run out of stuff…”

That was also a very weak excuse. Tina and Queenie never would have let him go hungry, and logically, he knew that. But memories of the long periods of near-starvation in his childhood had left their mark, which had led to…well, to a squirrel-like hoard in his closet, on the off-chance that he should ever be locked in the basement just as he’d been locked in his tiny attic room at the church.

“Credence, it’s okay,” Percy said softly, as he took a step forward and reached out to him, “you can tell me if something is wrong.”

His voice was neutral, but alarm bells went off in Credence’s head. He froze in place, _danger danger danger_ bouncing around inside of his skull like a pinball, fear paralyzing every limb. “Please don’t be angry,” he managed to croak, and then, when Percy took another careful step towards him, feeling surged back into his legs just enough for him to stumble away. _No, please don’t hit me, please don’t hit me._ He tried to run, but couldn’t seem to move properly; his legs were like water and he felt himself falling backwards…

…only to be caught up in a pair of strong, gentle arms. “It’s all right,” Percy said soothingly as he lowered Credence to the floor, settling him carefully in his lap. Still fearing he might be punished Credence briefly struggled. Percy didn’t try to hold him back, just kept one arm around him so he wouldn’t fall. “I’ve got you,” he said soothingly. “Easy there. Don’t want you to hit your head.”

 _Don’t hit me_ , Credence thought frantically, _please, I’ll be good, I swear_ —but he must have said it out loud, because the next thing Percy said, very quietly and reassuringly, was, “Credence, love, I will never, _ever_ hurt you. I know you’re very frightened right now, I understand, but you don’t have to be. You’re safe. You can relax, sweetheart, it’s all right. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

The combination of the gentle, grounding touch and Percy’s tender words eventually helped clear Credence’s head enough for him to calm down a little. The sudden rush of adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling weak and shaky. “Hold me?” he whispered helplessly.

Percy immediately obliged, wrapping both arms around him and cupping one hand around the back of his neck, keeping Credence’s head safely in place against his chest. “Can you breathe for me? Nice, deep breaths—yes, just like that. You’re doing really well, love. That’s it.” Percy held Credence and rubbed his back until he could breathe again, and only then did he ask, “Can you tell me if you’re okay now?”

He wasn’t asking for an explanation, but Credence thought he owed him one. He sat up a little and forced out, “I wasn’t allowed to eat on—on days that I—got a punishment, and—and sometimes there’d be weeks, or longer, where I’d get punished almost every day. I was so hungry all the time—so eventually I—I—”

He broke off, buried his face in Percy’s chest and let himself cry for a good few minutes. Percy cuddled him as gently as though he were a baby, murmuring soft reassurances and words of encouragement the whole time. When he could speak again, Credence went on, “We had a soup kitchen, so sometimes to shut us up, people would give us canned food when we were out collecting donations. I’d volunteer to do inventory and steal some of the food, in case she locked me in my room—I had to, Percy, I didn't have a choice—sometimes I’d bleed so much I’d feel faint, and—” Credence tentatively looked up, only to see that Percy’s face had turned chalk-white and he looked _crushed._ “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you, I—”

Percy started a little and quickly assured him, “Oh, no, Credence… _I’m_ sorry. You didn’t deserve that…God, I can’t imagine anyone being so cruel as to beat you and fucking _starve_ you, I just… _Jesus_ …” He gently guided Credence’s head back down onto his chest. “You’ll never go hungry again, my love. I won’t allow it,” he promised, and overcome with emotion Credence buried his face in Percy’s shirt and fought back another wave of tears. “There, sweetheart. It’s all right,” Percy said soothingly. “Try to relax, breathe for me, all right? That was a bad one, wasn’t it, you’re still shaking…”

They stayed on the floor until Credence felt steady enough to move to the couch, at which point Percy promptly took him into his arms again. “I’m sorry,” Credence murmured into his neck. “I’m so sorry…I’ve been so useless all month and then the first date night we have I do _this_ …seriously, just give me a minute and I’ll be okay, we can—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Percy cut him off. He hesitated briefly, and then said in a very soft, reassuring voice, “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about—well, about this kind of thing, I guess, for a while now. But I need for _you_ to not get mad at _me,_ okay?” He waited for Credence’s permission to continue before he said, “Have I ever told you that I go to a therapist?”

Whatever Credence had expected, it wasn’t that. “No,” he said, a little surprised. “I don’t think you have. Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I think it might be a good idea for you to talk to one too,” Percy said matter-of-factly. “Has Tina ever talked about that with you? I know most cops aren’t exactly diehard therapy fans, but I’d have thought…if she has any idea what you’ve been through…”

Credence looked away uncomfortably. “Well…she did. She tried to make going to see a counselor one of the conditions of me living here. But I…I couldn’t talk to him…I was afraid Tina would punish me if I didn’t go, and I was afraid he’d lock me up if I told him how scared and upset I was…so I’d just sit there feeling afraid and then feel, like, _defective_ because I knew it was meant to help but it didn’t…then at the last session he told Tina, right in front of me, ‘there’s no point in bringing him back, if he won’t open up I can’t help him.’”

“Wait, he _said that_? Really?” Credence nodded unhappily, and Percy let out an exasperated sigh. “God, what a fuckstick. Okay, let’s get one thing straight. Look at me,” he ordered, and Credence did. “You are _not_ defective, Credence,” Percy said firmly. You’d been shamed and beaten and literally fucking _starved_ , and then—what, you should be able to trust a perfect stranger straight away? Yeah, fuck that guy.”

“You know…I never thought of it that way,” Credence said slowly. “So wait, if I were to…to go to a different one, maybe…it might help?” Percy nodded, and for a moment Credence felt excited. Then he remembered why it hadn’t worked in the first place and he deflated. “I’m afraid it’ll be exactly the same,” he admitted. “That I’ll be too afraid to talk, and it’ll be a total waste of time—”

“Well, you don’t have to do regular psychotherapy, not if you think it’s going to make you feel worse,” Percy told him. “There are plenty of things that can help with trauma recovery…in fact, you’ve been giving yourself therapy all this time, do you realize that?”

“Wait, what? _How?_ ” Credence felt hope bubbling up inside him again; was Percy right? Was this really something he could have? 

“That old tape you like, _Healing_? The one you listen to when you have a nightmare, or have trouble falling asleep? That’s music therapy, and you’ve been doing that for years, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I do…I feel better when I listen to it…but it’s not scary, not like therapy was, I mean, it—it feels _good_.”

“Oh, love…I’m sorry no one ever explained this to you.” Percy took Credence’s hands in his. “The point of therapy is to help you cope, sweetheart, not torture you even more. And I promise you, if you go to someone, whether they’re a psychotherapist or a different kind, and you don’t feel comfortable with them, you are under absolutely _no_ obligation to keep going. I will _not_ be disappointed if you try therapy in any form and it doesn’t work for you, understand?”

Credence felt like crying again, but now for an entirely different reason. He fell back against Percy and buried his face in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much…I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too. And you don’t need to thank me for anything…and on that note…” Percy gently pushed Credence back again so they could see each other’s faces once more. “I know this has been a really heavy conversation, but we need to talk about one more thing. And then we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night. Okay?” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Percy took a deep breath, as if to psych himself up, and then said, “I know how hard things have been for you. I know you’re stressed to your actual breaking point. I think I saw that breaking point tonight, and listen…” He suddenly looked achingly sad. “If you need me to back off a little, if…if you need some space, maybe…”

“No! No, please don’t leave me,” Credence pleaded, tears springing to his eyes.

“Oh God no, I’m not trying to leave you, I just…” Percy let go of Credence and dropped his face into his hands. When he looked back up, the pain in his eyes shattered Credence’s heart. “Oh, love…I just can’t stand to see you so upset, and I don’t want to make things worse for you.”

“You’re not,” Credence told him firmly. “I wanted to see you tonight, I did, and all the other nights I had to cancel it killed me, I _want_ to be with you—”

“I know,” Percy cut him off again, “and see, that’s what I mean. I want to be with you too, but I don’t want to put any pressure on you.” He sighed heavily again. “God, I—I am the absolute _last_ person who should be lecturing anyone about this, but—if we’re going to do this, if we’re going to really be together, I need you to let me help when you get stressed out. If you need something from me that you aren’t getting, or if I’m hurting you, _I need to know_. If you need space, if you need time, if you just need help with your homework, _tell me._ I will never, ever hold it against you if you tell me to go away, or if you ask me for help. You understand?”

By the end of this little speech, to Credence’s complete and utter shock, Percy was actually in tears. With no better ideas of what to do, Credence crawled into his lap and threw his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“No, sweetheart, no, you didn't.” Percy pressed his face into Credence’s neck and held him tight. “I just want to make things better for you, okay? So if there’s something you need me to do, or _not_ do, please tell me.”

“I will,” Credence promised, holding Percy as if he’d never let go. “I will next time, I promise.”

And then proceeded to break that promise, as he realized while they were getting ready for bed that he’d never told Percy just how much he was dreading the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack TW spoilers: Credence melts down after Graves finds out about one of his unhealthy coping mechanisms re: his childhood trauma. His fight-flight-freeze response kicks in, he tries to run but gets dizzy and almost falls over, Graves catches him and sits down with him on the floor so he doesn't get hurt. He briefly dissociates enough to think that Graves might hit him and, at one point, accidentally begs Graves out loud to not hit him. (OBVIOUSLY, guys, Graves does NOT hit him.) He breaks down again and cries while explaining the reason behind the panic attack to Graves. Afterwards he is very shaky and it takes him a while to fully recover.
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: Directly related to above. The reason Credence panics in the first place is because Graves discovers that Credence instinctively hoards food in his apartment--despite knowing full well that Jacob and the Goldsteins would *never* do this to him--because his mother used to punish him by withholding food. He also mentions there were days that, after she belted him, he would "bleed so much [he'd] feel faint" and he would have to steal food from the church's donation pantry to keep from starving.
> 
> Sexual assault TW spoilers: Newt asks if Credence knows that Graves was raped; Graves insists Credence doesn't need to know. (It should be noted that he actually has a fairly healthy view of what happened to him, pointing out that it is in the past and doesn't define him; the negative part kicks in when it's firmly established that the *only* reason he isn't telling Credence about it is because he thinks Credence has "had it worse" in terms of past trauma.)
> 
> Teacher abuse TW spoilers: Lockhart's disgusting treatment of Credence is finally properly addressed and blatantly called out for what it is. Seraphina is very sympathetic and reasonable through the whole thing and it's very clear that she is Team Credence, but the reality that Lockhart may not face legitimate consequences for his actions is addressed. Credence being Credence, he initially takes the blame for the abuse onto himself, and then once Sera and Graves have gotten it through his head that he was mistreated, he blames himself for not coming forward sooner. Also, later in the chapter it's mentioned that Lockhart retaliates by giving Credence extra work, and not much can be done to stop him.
> 
> Bad mental healthcare TW spoilers: Credence was sent to therapy after Tina rescued him, but he was too afraid that he would be institutionalized if he didn't give the therapist the "right" answers for it to do much good. The (VERY BAD) therapist essentially threw it back on Credence and told Tina, in Credence's presence, "if he won't open up I can't help him." (IF YOUR THERAPIST EVER DOES THIS, FIRE THEM. AND REPORT THEM. SERIOUSLY.) Credence calls himself "defective" because therapy didn't instantly help him; Graves very rapidly sets him straight.
> 
> Stress/unhealthy coping TW spoilers: The pressure of going through an intense program while starting a new relationship starts to get to Credence. His grades slip, he cancels dates to do schoolwork (and feels horribly guilty about it), and when he needs help he can't bring himself to confide in any of his people due to shame and guilt over not "doing better." Graves does try to set him straight at the end, Credence promises to do better...and then promptly neglects his own needs again for fear of disappointing his boyfriend.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOUSTON WE HAVE SEX! :D :D :D
> 
> (Seriously y'all smut is not my forte, I love it but I have a hard time writing it without feeling like a giant bowl of awkwardsauce, so. Please go easy on me. :P )
> 
> A note re: Jacob celebrating Hanukkah -- my headcanon has always been that Jacob Kowalski is Jewish Polish, not Roman Catholic Polish. I know it's not explicitly confirmed one way or the other in the film, but his actor is Jewish so I went with that. If there's solid canonical evidence that's not the case, I apologize and I'll go fix it.
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Sex happens (FINALLY, right?). There's no overt references to rape, but it is written from the perspective of a sexual assault survivor so the specter is there.  
> -Depression with ensuing negative self-talk  
> -VERY VERY MILD unintentional self-harm  
> See end notes for spoilers, as always. :)

Credence was quiet as they dressed the next morning. He ached to tell Percy how much he was dreading this whole day. But he also badly wanted everything to go well today. It was the first time they were going to spend time with the Goldsteins as a couple…so, technically, this was Percy “meeting the family.”

So he said nothing about the growing knot in his stomach as they got ready together. The half-bathroom in his basement apartment was so small only one of them could really use it at a time, so after he’d showered Credence stepped aside to let Percy do whatever he needed to do. He pulled on his favorite sweater and tight black jeans, then sat in his desk chair and watched through the cracked door as Percy shaved over his tiny sink.

 _He deserves better._ The thought jumped into his head as suddenly as anything and, wincing, Credence desperately tried to push it away. _He deserves better than you. He comes over to see you after weeks of half-assed coffee dates, and what do you do? You have a total mental breakdown. That’s the third time you’ve collapsed in his arms and cried yourself sick while he handles the situation like a damn adult. Why the hell does he even stay with you?_

He went to the closet and grabbed a brush, just for something to do, sat down at his tiny kitchen table, and started to attack the damp, snarled mess that was his hair. The darkness kept swirling in him, pushing insistently at the edges of his mind, and it was only when Percy stilled his hands, took the brush, and said softly, “Here, sweetheart, let me, you’re going to hurt yourself,” that he realized he’d been yanking at his hair like it had done something wrong.

“I can handle it,” Credence said automatically, but then, as always, Percy touched him and he was helpless. The hands in his hair were exceedingly gentle, expertly working the knots out from the bottom-up. Within minutes, the tension had drained from Credence’s body and he was leaning into the touch, lips parting in a blissed-out sigh.

When he was done brushing, Percy still kept playing with Credence’s hair, lifting it in handfuls and letting it slip through his fingers like a waterfall. Credence let out an involuntary moan; there was something so intensely _intimate_ about this. “You like this, do you?” Percy moved his hands from Credence’s hair to his neck, gently stroking and pressing until Credence turned to jelly under his touch.

“Thank you,” Credence whispered, eyes still closed, trying to block out the _you don’t deserve this_ loop playing in his head.

Percy slid his hands down to Credence’s shoulders, guiding him backwards until he was leaning against Percy’s chest, his head tilted back in a position of total surrender. “Tell me what’s going on,” Percy coaxed him. “You’ve been tense since we got up. Is it something from last night? Talk to me, love. I’m here.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.” _And dreading every damn second of today._

“Oh, Credence. _Please_ tell me you don’t actually think I’m naive enough to believe that.” Percy nudged him to sit up straight, then came around and took the chair opposite Credence. Taking both of Credence’s hands in his, he went on, “We just talked about this last night. I can tell you’re unhappy, and I want to help, all right? Please let me.”

“It’s nothing,” Credence insisted, and when Percy tilted his head as if to say _really, Credence?_ he sighed and admitted, “I don’t really…love this time of year. It’s just…Ma never let us do anything…holidays were just another _day_ …I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m…I’m just tired.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” Percy stood up, tugged Credence over to the loveseat, and pulled him down into his lap. “First of all, a lot of people hate this time of year. Hell, I _love_ this time of year and there are things _I_ hate about it. We’re sold this…this kind of manufactured happiness, and then we’re told to suck it up and deal if we don’t enjoy every minute of it.”

“That sounds about right.” Except with Ma it had been _every day_ he ought to be grateful, _every day_ he ought to be glad to suffer for the sake of the Lord. “I thought I could have real Christmases after I moved out, but…you know…the Goldsteins are Jewish…so. You know. I’ve never done anything for Christmas.”

Percy looked genuinely astonished for a moment, and then his face split into a gigantic smile. “Well…I think we can fix that this year. My mum _adores_ Christmas.” Percy gave Credence a light squeeze around the waist. “Will you spend Christmas with me, my beautiful boy? Please?”

At that, the tears welled up and spilled over. Credence didn’t think he’d cried as much in his whole life, as he had since he’d started seeing Percy. The man just had a way of cracking open his heart and spilling out the emotions trapped inside, making Credence feel soft and exposed and utterly vulnerable…but safe. Always, _always_ safe. “Thank you,” he whispered, feeling pathetically hopeful. “For understanding…for not being mad at me…”

“Why the hell would I be mad at you for feeling lonely and upset during a time of year that’s tailor-made to make people like you feel lonely and upset? With everything you’ve been through, I’d think you were superhuman if the holiday season _didn’t_ hurt you at least a little.” He paused, and then asked quietly, “Is that really all, Credence? Is that the only thing that’s got you so anxious today?”

Credence hesitated a moment before answering, “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a pain, I swear…I want to go upstairs and celebrate the holiday with the Goldsteins like we planned, because they’re technically my family and I love them, I just…I’m so tired and it feels really nice when we…when we’re _alone_.”

“I see. Sounds like you’re feeling pretty conflicted,” Percy said neutrally.

“Yeah…” Credence hesitated again and then— _just go for it_ —he admitted, “Last night when you kissed me I was too upset to enjoy it. But I really miss making out with you…kissing you always feels really good.”

“Oh, _really._ ” Percy’s tender expression took on a darker edge, and a little thrill went down Credence’s spine. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go spend some time with the Goldsteins, with the understanding that we _immediately_ leave if you need to. And we’ll tell them we have to get you back downstairs right after dinner. And if you’re not too tired…” His voice dipped low as he whispered in Credence’s ear, “When we’re alone tonight, sweet boy, I promise I will make you feel _so good._ Would you like that?” 

In an instant Credence, was so turned on he actually felt dizzy. “Okay. Yeah. Let’s do that,” he managed to squeak out, and was genuinely amazed at how calm and easy Percy was as he smiled, stood up, and resumed getting ready as if nothing had happened. Credence stayed still for a moment longer, thoroughly overwhelmed, torn between berating himself for not deserving Percy and kneeling down right there to thank God for giving him someone so wonderful.

~

Credence clung to Percy’s arm as they made their way upstairs and into the living room, where Tina and Newt had already taken up residence on the couch close to the fireplace. When Newt saw Percy, he immediately jumped to his feet and drew Percy into a tight embrace. Credence stood back, biting his lips to keep from laughing; one would think they hadn’t seen each other in decades.

“Get a room,” Jacob teased them. And when Newt just threw him a brief scowl and continued to hug Percy like both their lives depended on it, Jacob chuckled and added, “I think someone might be a little jealous.”

Newt quickly withdrew. “Blast it. Sorry, Credence.” He looked over Percy’s shoulder, but when he saw that Credence was smiling he grinned back and said, “No hard feelings, I take it?”

“Of course not. You’re best friends, why wouldn’t you hug?” Credence had gone long enough without friendship that he didn’t begrudge it to anyone, especially not someone he loved as much as he loved Percy.

“Oh, you should’ve seen ’em back in the day,” Queenie told him gleefully. “Everyone at the precinct _and_ the hospital _and_ Ilvermorny thought they were lovers, they were shocked when Newt finally went for Tina.”

“Okay, now, that’s not exactly fair—” Percy began, but Newt cut him off.

“You used to sit in my lap like a puppy, old friend. You can hardly blame people for jumping to conclusions,” he teased Percy. “Now, come sit. Drink. The parade is starting and Tina and I have a bet on how soon it’ll get unbearably sappy.”

Percy promptly settled down on the other end of Newt and Tina’s couch, pulling Credence down beside him and arranging things so that Credence wasn’t exactly in his lap, but his legs were slung over Percy’s and anyone who looked at them could see the exact nature of their relationship. Credence looked around the room and saw that the others had already gotten their drinks and, just like every year, there was a picturesque continental breakfast spread out on the coffee table.

Once they were all seated Tina tried to hand Percy a mimosa, and raised her eyebrows when he waved it away. “Since when do you turn down a cocktail?”

Before Percy could answer, Queenie passed both him and Credence cups of hot, sweet-smelling tea, and Credence flashed her a grateful smile. Tina had intuition in spades and she was fantastic at sniffing out lies…but Queenie? Queenie just _knew things_. She winked and squeezed his hand when she handed him the tea, then said, “Well, go on everybody. This food isn’t gonna eat itself, you know!”

They all wasted no time in filling their plates with breakfast treats. Credence waited until Newt and Tina were busy making their selections to tell Percy, “You can drink with them if you want to. I really don’t mind.”

Percy shook his head. “I made you a promise, sweetheart, and I intend to keep it.” He broke off a piece of pumpkin cinnamon roll and put it to Credence’s lips. “Here, try this. It’s almost as sweet as you.”

Automatically Credence let Percy slip the food into his mouth. The cinnamon roll was absolutely delicious, as were all of Jacob’s baked goods, but the taste was an afterthought to the look in Percy’s eyes when Credence let himself be fed. He felt a flutter of pleasure deep inside his belly. His heart sped up, just a little. “That was…really corny,” he managed to say after he swallowed.

Percy smirked at him a little. “And yet it still turned you on,” he pointed out, too quietly for the others to hear. “Want me to do it again, or will it embarrass you?”

“You can do it again,” Credence whispered, feeling a little jolt of pleasure at the thought.

Tina and Newt, meanwhile, had begun their yearly tradition of mocking the Macy’s parade. “Santa Claus ‘ushers in the holiday season,’” Tina snorted. “Yeah, remember kiddies, it’s all about the presents! Forget peace on earth and goodwill toward men, the _real_ highlight of the season is getting that Xbox 360!”

“I’ve always hated the religious aspect of Santa Claus,” Newt agreed with a roll of his eyes.

That got Credence’s attention. “Wait, what?”

The room briefly, uncomfortably went silent as everyone in there remembered the “religious aspect” of Credence’s past. Finally Newt said, “Well, you know. ‘He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake.’ He decides whether or not you’re worthy of happiness based on some unspecified criteria…” He trailed off when he saw the looks on their faces. “Oh, don’t,” he complained, “Theo used to look at me like that too. I got told to ‘lighten up’ a lot.”

Percy let out an inelegant snort. “Can’t imagine why.”

“I mean, he’s got a point,” Jacob remarked. “I always kinda felt sorry for the Christian kids growing up. Like, I always knew I was going to get holiday presents, _and_ I always knew where they were coming from. I just had to be nice to my family, not try and please some creepy ‘Hanukkah fairy.’”

Tina cracked up. “‘Creepy Hanukkah fairy.’ I love it. That’s it, from now on, Santa Claus is the ‘creepy Christmas fairy.’” 

Secretly, Credence liked the idea of Santa Claus (which he knew full well was only because such fantasy had been forbidden to him as a child), but if he said that he was sure he’d be labeled as naive or childish. So he said nothing, and tilted his head until he was resting comfortably in the crook of Percy’s neck, letting Percy cuddle him as he alternated between feeding Credence little pieces of muffins and scones, playing with his hair, and placing innocent little butterfly kisses everywhere but his mouth—all with a smile on his face so broad one would think _he_ was the one getting endlessly spoiled. “You make me happy,” he said, when Credence asked what he was smiling about.

Credence had always liked the Macy’s parade and couldn’t quite understand why the others found it so “trite,” though he could guess it was most likely because they’d all been watching it since they were kids and it was still relatively new to him. But he enjoyed the floats, the balloons, the total spectacle of it all. He knew the happiness on-screen was, as Percy had said downstairs, all for show…but there was something sweet about it nonetheless.

While Newt, Tina, and Jacob were all chortling over the fact that John Legend was singing on the Build-a-Bear float, he whispered to Percy, “Do you think we could ever go see this in person?” Immediately he repented—New York at Thanksgiving? Even he knew what _that_ would cost.

But all Percy said was, “Would you like that?” When Credence shyly nodded he smiled and said, “You know, it never even crossed my mind that you might want to go to the parade. But tell you what, we’ll go to the one in Detroit with Morgan and the kids next year. They love it and I’m sure you will too.”

He wrapped Credence in his arms and cuddled him close, as if the matter were settled…but suddenly Credence felt immensely guilty. This morning Percy had invited him for Christmas, now he’d promised to take him to the Thanksgiving parade next year. And he’d stayed over last night, and was going to stay tonight as well…and when Credence had panicked last night Percy had been so quick to soothe him, and even promised to help him find therapy so he wouldn’t have those panic attacks anymore…

Credence ought to just accept it, he knew, and be thankful that he had someone so wonderful. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that Percy was really getting the short end of the stick in this relationship.

~

Dinner was at 4:30—later than Credence would have liked, but of course it had to be planned around football (Jacob and Tina would both have _rioted_ if they didn’t get to see how the Lions game ended). Credence, despite his best efforts, spent most of the game curled up with Percy on the couch. “I should go help in the kitchen. Or at least go downstairs and study,” he’d protest, trying to get up.

And Percy would hold him there and tell him, “No, you should rest.” He was kind enough to not bring up all the reasons _why_ Credence needed to rest. But they both knew what those reasons were, and it only deepened Credence’s feelings of sadness and guilt.

He escaped into the dining room just as Queenie and Jacob were pulling the turkey from the oven, sank into the nearest empty chair, and buried his face in his hands. A choked almost-sob escaped, and he quickly reeled it back in. Now was _not_ a good time to cry; everyone was waiting to eat, he would _not_ break down, he would not!

He didn’t know how long he was there before a soft hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Credence?” Tina said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

Credence took a deep breath and withdrew his face from his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “Just…not in a great mood today.”

Tina, of course, immediately knew that was bullshit. “You don’t have to tell me,” she said gently. “But I know something is wrong…would you feel better if I went and got Graves, maybe?”

“No,” he said quickly. Tears welled in his eyes at the thought. “You were right,” he whispered to her. “He’s so…he’s so _good,_ and I—I’m just—I’m just going to end up hurting him, he deserves better than me,” he finally managed to get out.

“Oh, _no!_ Credence, I never meant—Jesus, no!” She took the seat beside Credence and looked earnestly into his eyes. “I never said—I never _meant_ —God, what the actual hell gave you _that_ idea?”

“He’s going to take me home for Christmas,” Credence blurted out, and then it _all_ spilled out: “And last night I had a panic attack, so he held me all night and now he wants to help me find a therapist…and then today I said I liked the parade so he wants to take me to the one in Detroit next year—” Instinctively he clutched her hand as he finished, “He’s so good to me and I want to be good to him too, but…you were right…I can’t do this, I don’t know _how_.”

Tina patiently waited until he was done. Then she said, “Did I ever tell you that I once broke up with Newt because I didn’t want him to have to deal with me when my dad died?”

Credence looked up, startled. “Wait, really?”

She smiled sadly and nodded. “Yeah. I don’t handle grief well…to put it very mildly…and I didn’t want him to see me like that, so I pushed him away. I almost lost him because I didn’t think he should have to see me at my worst. But that’s what relationships are about, you know…sometimes you’re going to need your partner to support you, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“But that’s different—that was just one time, you—you aren’t _me_ ,” Credence burst out desperately, his hand unconsciously clutching Tina’s again. “You’re _okay_ usually, you know? Newt doesn’t have to take care of you _all the time._ ”

Tina shook her head. “Oh, Credence, no…listen, I was wrong, okay?” He looked at her askance; she _never_ said that. “Graves understands, I promise, I can’t tell you why but I promise he knows how you feel. And I guarantee he doesn’t mind ‘taking care of you.’ He _loves_ doing stuff for the people he cares about. Probably a bit too much, if you ask me, but that’s not the point.”

“I know. He’s so kind…it’s one of the first things I noticed about him.” Credence chewed his lip. “I just…I just don’t want to hurt him, like you said…”

“You won’t, and it was really shitty of me to tell you that you would,” Tina said firmly. She gave his hand a squeeze. “I was worried about both of you, and I shouldn’t have been. I see that now. And I’m sorry.”

“And at last she admits it,” Percy said from the doorway, making both Tina and Credence jump.

“Percy, I—” Credence began, and then couldn’t even imagine how to continue. 

Tina got to her feet. “I’m not trying to interfere again,” she told Percy. “He was upset, I was just—”

“I saw. It’s fine.” Percy gave her a warm smile, which she hesitantly returned. “If it’s okay with you, though, I think I can take it from here.”

“Of course.” She left, but Credence saw a look pass between the two of them and he knew Percy had forgiven her too.

He stood up, ready to explain, and instead found himself wrapped tightly in Percy’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he began, his face pressed into Percy’s neck.

“Sh-h-h. Don’t be. You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.” Percy squeezed him tight and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of his face. Then he drew back just enough for them to see each other and said, “She’s right, you know.”

“About what?” Credence asked tentatively.

“Everything. It _does_ make me happy to make you happy. And I hate to see you sad, but I love that you let me comfort you.” Percy cupped Credence’s face in his hands so Credence had to look at him. “Have you been breaking your heart over this all day? Is this the real reason you were so upset this morning? You think you’re a burden to me, really?”

Credence nodded, just once, and managed to tell him, “I want to be as good for you as you are for me.” He knew it sounded stupid, but he couldn’t think of any other way to say it.

“Oh, but you _are._ ” Percy let go of Credence’s face and pulled him into an embrace again. “Credence, my love, you have healed parts of me that I didn’t even realize were broken. You made me feel things I didn’t think I still could. And you did it without trying, without forcing anything, just by being _you_.”

Credence let his eyes fall closed, let his face press tightly into Percy’s neck, and tried very, very hard to let himself believe what Percy was telling him. “I love you so much,” he choked. “I just want…I want you to _know…_ ”

“I do know, Credence. I promise you, I know. And I love you too. More than I could ever put into words.”

Percy held him tightly, one arm wrapped close around his waist, the other tangled in his hair, until Credence could feel his broken pieces beginning to stick together…until he felt like maybe he could stand on his own again…until he almost believed it when Percy said he loved him.

~

Graves was pretty sure the last time he’d been this nervous was the day he took the NCLEX.

Considering everything they’d been through that day, he half-expected Credence to forget the promise he’d impulsively made that morning. But when the dinner was over and the others were settled in front of a football game, Credence pulled him down to the basement apartment, led him into the cozy captain’s bed and shut the curtains. “No interruptions tonight,” he promised with a smile, and Graves’ heart leaped even as nerves clutched at his stomach.

_Right. Let’s see if you remember how to do this._

He lay back and pulled Credence down beside him for a kiss. As always, Credence responded beautifully, kissing back with a low, sensuous moan. The sound went through Graves like a shot, arousal building inside him as the nerves slowly began to ease up. He let out a soft gasp as Credence cupped the back of his neck with one hand, the other splaying out over his back to draw him in closer, as if he just couldn’t get enough.

For a good while they lay there side-by-side and kissed slowly and languidly, hands straying and caressing each other through their clothes, until by some silent mutual agreement they stopped and just lay there staring deep into one another’s eyes. Credence reached up and gently traced his fingers down Graves’ cheek. “Hi,” he said tentatively, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

“Hi.” Graves wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed gently, drawing Credence’s body purposefully closer to his. He slid just his fingertips under the hem of Credence’s shirt, lightly tracing over the soft skin at the very base of his spine, and Credence let out a delicate little moan as his eyes fluttered shut. Graves was especially proud of finding this particular way of turning Credence on; anytime he could use the boy’s scarred back as a source of pleasure rather than pain, he considered it a win. “Mmm. Do you like that?”

Credence nodded shakily, blinking his eyes open as if he were waking from a long sleep. He reached up and cupped his palm around Graves’ cheek again, his eyes filled with both apprehension and pure wonder. “I love you,” he said, but it came out almost like a question— _can I have this? Will you let me?_

Slowly and deliberately, giving him plenty of time to stop things if he wanted to, Graves rolled them over so that Credence lay spread out beneath him. “May I undress you, sweetheart?” he asked, and waited for a nod before he unbuttoned the thin white dress shirt slowly, caressing the silky skin as it was exposed and relishing the breathy little noises of pleasure that Credence made in response.

When the shirt was finally gone, Graves laid his head against Credence’s stomach and closed his eyes, enjoying the heady sensation of someone else’s bare skin against his. He felt Credence’s hand card through his hair and sighed in pleasure, his breath raising the fine hairs on Credence’s skin. “Okay?” he whispered.

Credence’s hand continued to move steadily through his hair. “Okay,” he confirmed, seemingly in no hurry to move things along.

Graves liked that. He’d always preferred a nice, steady slow-burn when it came to lovemaking, especially with a new partner. There was something so intoxicating and intimate about the tentative, exploratory pleasure of being with someone for the first time, and he didn’t like to rush it. He turned his head and pressed a few light kisses against Credence’s soft, flat belly, pleased to hear the delicate little moans he got in reply.

“Percy?” came a soft voice above him, and Graves turned his head up to see that Credence was watching him through heavily-lidded eyes, desire written plainly on his face. “Will you…come back up here with me? I…I want…”

Graves obligingly crawled back up the length of Credence’s body, perching over him on all fours. “What do you want, sweetheart?” he prompted. “Want me to hold you again?”

Credence hesitated, and then shook his head. “I want your shirt off too.”

 _Oh...interesting._ Graves sat back a little so that he was straddling Credence, careful not to rest too much of his weight on his boy’s slim hips. “Well, are you waiting for an invitation?” he teased, praying silently that Credence took the hint.

Oh, and he did. Credence reached up hesitantly, plucking at the buttons of Graves’ vest with trembling fingers, and then something in his face shifted. With a surprising amount of strength for someone so slender, he flipped them over so that he was on top. “Oh!” Graves breathed, surprised and very excited; this was straight out of one of his fantasies. Exactly what he’d been hoping for.

Credence, perhaps misinterpreting the “oh,” froze. “Okay?” he said uncertainly.

“Yes, God yes, _very_ okay,” Graves assured him. “Please, keep going.” He hesitated a little—this was bound to bring up questions—and then said in a rush, “Just don’t be too rough with me, please.” He winced a little at his own words. _Jesus, Graves. Could you sound any more like a nervous virgin on prom night?_

“I won’t hurt you,” Credence promised. He became a little more sure of himself as he divested Graves of his vest, tie, and dress shirt. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his voice full of awe as his fingers traced patterns on Graves’ chest.

Graves let his eyes flutter closed. “That feels…very nice,” he managed to say. Encouraged, Credence leaned down to kiss the place his fingers had just been. He started off with light, careful little butterfly kisses, which eventually turned to soft nips, and then evolved into—Graves couldn’t _breathe,_ he was so hard—gentle bites, accompanied by just a hint of suction. “Ah— _Jesus_ , Credence!” 

Apparently this was exactly what Credence needed to hear because he kept going, moving up the planes of Graves’ chest and trailing kisses the whole way until he reached the base of his throat.“Can I kiss you here?” he asked, nuzzling the intended spot with his nose.

Graves knew Credence was thinking of that moment on the couch, when he’d been intensely responsive to Credence’s kisses and touches until the boy had run his fingertips down his throat. “Kiss, yes,” he managed, his heart skipping; he really liked that Credence asked first. “Just don’t—um. Don’t touch me there with your hands. I don’t really like that.”

Credence nodded solemnly, as if this piece of knowledge were every bit as precious and worth remembering as his nursing school study guides. He licked a quick, delicate stripe up the column of Graves’ throat, and when that got a positive response, he sealed his mouth over the throbbing pulse, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Graves let out a desperate little cry of pleasure. His hips involuntarily thrust up to meet his lover’s, leading to the delightful discovery that Credence was every bit as achingly hard as he was. “Are you hard for me, my love?” he breathed as Credence kept mercilessly sucking and biting his neck. “Does it— _oh God_ —turn you on, knowing that you can— _ah!_ —can get me going like this?”

“Yes,” Credence said breathlessly. Then he stilled, looking down at Graves uncertainly, and with a little encouragement he at last shyly requested, “Could you—could you tug on my hair, while we kiss? Please?”

“Of course I can.” Graves reached up and wound his fingers in those long, silky black waves and tugged, just hard enough to make Credence feel it. And feel it he did, tipping back his head to expose the length of his pale neck, a throaty moan escaping. Graves seized the moment and asked, “What else do you like, hmm? Tell me. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“I like—I like _this_.” Credence leaned back down so that his body was flush along Graves’, their bare chests pressing together again. Then he stilled again and said uncertainly, “Are you sure—is this really okay? I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes. I love having you on top of me,” Graves assured him. “It makes me feel close to you, and I like that. And I really love that you feel confident and safe enough to take control and take what you want from me.”

Credence considered that for a moment before he sat up and slid backwards until he was kneeling between Graves’ legs. He ran his hands down Graves’ body again, stopping right at the waistband of his slacks, fingers dancing uncertainly over the suddenly very-conspicuous belt buckle. “Can I?” he finally asked.

Graves nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. “I’m yours for the taking, my love,” he reminded Credence, trying to ignore his racing heart.

Credence nodded slowly and set to work unbuckling, unzipping, and tugging until Graves’ slacks and briefs were gone. He spent a good few seconds just looking, his eyes traveling slowly and hungrily over every muscle and line and slight curve, and…oh God…

Just the way Credence looked at him made Graves dizzy. He couldn’t remember the last time, even before _him,_ that a lover had taken such obvious delight in his body, in just seeing him exposed. He knew this was the first time Credence had gotten this physical with someone, but it now became apparent that it was also the first time he’d even let himself look at another man naked. Oh. _Oh,_ this was just too much.

Graves couldn’t hold back a moan as Credence reached over and carefully drew a hand up the inside of his thigh. “You’re… _beautiful,”_ Credence breathed, sincere awe in every syllable. “I knew…I knew you would be, but…”

“Oh, love. So are you.” The hand on his thigh slid higher, and Graves let out another broken little moan. “Will you—oh, God—please, sweetheart, will you take off your pants too? I—I want to see you. Only if you want to,” he quickly tacked onto the end; he ached to feel Credence's bare skin against his, but he still didn’t want to force him into anything.

Credence did want to, as it turned out. He promptly got out of bed to undress and Graves watched his silhouette through the curtain, heart thrumming with anticipation. He crawled back into bed and, without awaiting further instructions, stretched out overtop Graves again, the long, lean shape of his wonderful, _naked_ body on perfect display. “Oh, you feel so _good_ ,” he sighed.

Graves’ eyes actually rolled up into his head at the first brush of Credence’s hard length against his own. “ _Ohhhfuck_ ,” he gasped, his hands coming up to grip the slender waist. “Do what you want, just— _God_ , keep going—” Pleasure was already coiling in his stomach, hot and fierce and so, _so_ long overdue. He let himself be lost in the moment, his anxiety melting away like hot butter as he gave himself over to the molten bliss running through his veins.

And Credence…oh, God…Credence was suddenly _fearless_ , focused exclusively on their shared pleasure, his dark eyes once again hungrily combing over Graves’ body. His hands strayed, roaming across the planes of Graves’ stomach and chest, up over his shoulders, steadily trailing down to the thin, sensitive skin of his inner elbows and the underside of his wrists. He kept steady eye contact as he raised Graves’ wrist to his mouth and let his tongue flick over the pulse.

“ _Fuck_ , so good…do that again…” It was just as well that Credence seemed to like verbal encouragement, because when he was this close to the edge there was no way Graves would be able to shut up. “God, you’re so beautiful…you’re turning me on so much, sweetheart, please don’t stop…ah, _Jesus_ …so close…”

And then…just when Graves thought it couldn’t possibly get hotter…Credence licked his lips and murmured, “You look so hot right now…I love being with you like this…and…and I _love_ that I’m making you feel good…”

Graves thought his heart may well explode out of his chest because _sweet Jesus his beautiful boy was trying to talk dirty to him_ and it was a great time to be alive. “You _are_ making me feel good love, oh, _so good,_ please don’t stop,” he moaned.

He meant _don’t stop talking_ , but Credence took it as _please, ride me through the mattress,_ which he proceeded to do with unbridled desperation. And then he leaned forward as he ground down hard and breathed, in a low, husky voice that was straight out of Graves’ fantasies, _“I want to see you come.”_

That did it. The smoldering heat in Graves’ stomach burst into flames like oil spilled on a hot stove. His eyes slammed shut and his back involuntarily arched as his climax hit him, a litany of mingled swears and moans spilling from his lips. _“I love you,”_ he heard himself cry out and Credence kissed the words right out of his mouth as he shuddered through his own orgasm.

 _His first with another person,_ Graves found himself thinking feverishly. _I’m the first person who’s been allowed to see him come._ Contentment spread through him like a shot of morphine, a kind of possessive satisfaction sinking deep into his bones and leaving him pleasantly limp and exhausted.

Graves expected Credence to collapse on top of him, but he slid to the side instead, flopping onto his back and splaying out like a starfish, then reaching out to clumsily lace their fingers together. They lay side-by-side for a long, beautiful moment, both of them panting and shivering with aftershocks. Eventually, Credence rolled over and slung an arm around Graves’ waist, burying his face in his side. “Love you too,” he murmured sleepily.

Graves let out a shaky laugh and slid his arm under Credence’s shoulders so as to better hold him close. He knew they’d regret it immensely in the morning if they didn’t clean themselves up soon. He knew they needed to talk. He knew he needed to check in, and make sure Credence felt no shame or anxiety over what they’d just done. 

But at the moment all he wanted to do was hold his beautiful boy in his arms and enjoy the afterglow. Everything else, he decided as Credence snuggled up to him like a long-limbed koala bear, could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it slightly OOC for Newt and Graves to be super-touchy-feely with each other? Yes. Am I making it fanon anyway because the fact that Colin Farrell gave Eddie Redmayne a backrub before their first con together makes me squee like a deranged fangirl? Also yes. #noshame :P
> 
> Sex/sexual assault TW spoilers: Credence and Graves finally get intimate (no penetration, just grinding). It's overall very sweet and tender, with no overt references to rape, but there are a couple of moments where it's pretty obvious that Graves is at least thinking about it. Specifically, Credence asks if he can kiss Graves' neck and Graves says yes, but tells Credence not to touch his throat with his hands. He also spells out, "Don't be too rought with me, please" (and then worries that Credence will judge him for saying it).
> 
> Depression/self-talk TW spoilers: Credence feels extremely insecure following his panic attack in the last chapter and repeatedly worries that he's not as good a boyfriend as Graves is, and at one point even reflects Graves is "really getting the short end of the stick" by being with him. It comes to a head when he hides in the dining room and talks to Tina about it; he's afraid he's putting too much pressure on Graves and she reassures him that he's not. (It's a positive, relatively fluffy scene, but the leadup is fairly heavy, with Credence repeatedly beating himself up for being "too much" and not taking care of Graves the way Graves takes care of him.)
> 
> Accidental self-harm TW spoilers: Directly related to above, Credence pulls and roughly brushes his own hair while waiting for Graves to get ready, thinking the whole time about how he's not good enough for Graves. He doesn't do it with the intention of hurting/punishing himself, it's pure instinct.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! :D Soooo, this chapter we FINALLY get to meet our boy Grindelwald. So first of all, I'm using Mads Mikkelsen as my Grindelwald, because I just cannot for the life of me take Johnny Bleached Pineapple Depp seriously. I can't do it, I'm sorry. :P
> 
> Second, for those who have not spent ungodly amounts of time around Medical Stuff, here's what you need to know about his role at Macusa for this 'verse: A nurse informaticist's job is basically to gather and analyze hospital data, so you can improve the actual patient care process on the floor. You spend half your time doing research and the rest of your time trying to convince the hospital board/doctors/charge nurses that it's totally worth changing the way they've been doing things for years, because it'll be better for the patients. Grindelwald here is the chief nursing informatics officer, or the CNIO, which basically means he's the head informaticist...so he has the power to change policies and practices based on the data he collects. I'll just give you all a moment to imagine all the myriad of reasons *why* you Do Not Want someone like Grindelwald running your hospital.
> 
> HESI = nursing school SAT, basically. You take one for every class and it's supposed to help prepare you for the NCLEX, or your licensing exam. Some schools attach other conditions to the HESI (i.e., if you get a high score you get first choice at the best clinical spots next semester, or on the reverse if you get a low score you have to retake the class).
> 
> TWs for the chapter:  
> -Medical Stuff, this time it's needles/IVs and a mention of another fatal code  
> -A rape survivor has a near-miss encounter with their rapist  
> -Negative self-talk and self-victim blaming related to above  
> -Lockhart being a crappy teacher
> 
> See end notes for extended warnings/spoilers. :)

Percy was awake when Credence opened his eyes. “Hello there, my love,” he said with a sweet little smile, reaching over to brush Credence’s messy hair from his sleepy eyes. “You with me?”

“Yeah.” Credence took a brief moment to appreciate the heat and slick sweat of the places where they were pressed together skin-to-skin, reminding him that this was _real._ He reached out and gently trailed his fingertips down Percy’s chest, relishing the little sigh that it drew from his lover. He couldn’t hold back a smile. His _lover._ Because oh, God, they really _were_ lovers now, weren’t they?

He let his eyes flick up to Percy’s face, only to find that Percy was watching him. “Do you mind if we talk for a minute, sweetheart? We didn’t last night, so…”

“Oh…is everything okay?” Credence sat up a little to get a better look at Percy.

“Well, that’s what I was going to ask you, actually,” Percy said as he reached up and gently cupped a hand around Credence’s face, looking earnestly into his eyes. “Are you okay with everything that happened last night?”

“Oh, yeah.” Credence laid his head back down on Percy’s chest with a dreamy sigh. “Yeah, I’m definitely okay with the fact that we had sex last night. Or, well, whatever you’d call what we did. I guess it doesn’t really count as sex, does it.”

“Of course it counts!” Percy sounded genuinely surprised, and Credence craned his head back to give him a questioning look. “Oh, Credence. There is _so_ much more to sex than penetration. We did something incredibly intimate last night, we shared ourselves with each other and honestly, if that isn’t sex, I’m really not sure what the hell you’d call it.”

That was all Credence needed to hear. With a choked noise that was half-laugh, half-sob, he buried his face in the safety of Percy’s chest as he let the wave of sudden, almost-frightening joy crash over him. “You’re officially my first,” he finally managed to explain, once he realized Percy was probably concerned at his extreme reaction.

But of course Percy understood. “Oh, Credence, _yes._ Yes I am, and proud of it. Thank you for choosing me, my love, _”_ he murmured, squeezing him tight. Then he asked tentatively, “Do you think you could tell me what you liked about what we did? Or if there was anything you didn’t like?”

“Oh. Sure.” Credence thought it over for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I liked everything, I think…I know that’s not helpful, sorry.” He tilted his head back to look at Percy’s face. “Could you tell me what _you_ like?”

“Of course I can.” Percy reached up and absently played with Credence’s hair as he said slowly, “Okay, well. If we have penetrative sex…would you be willing to…to top me, maybe?” He sounded tentative, as if he were expecting a fight.

“Oh. Um. Why? I mean, why would you want that? I’m not judging,” Credence added quickly, “it’s just I always thought it sounded kind of…painful.”

Percy’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Well, it’s certainly not supposed to hurt, in fact if it’s done right, it is…very pleasant. At least, _I_ find it pleasant.”

“Okay,” Credence said after he’d processed that. “I…I don’t know if I’d like that, but if you do—if you like having someone, you know, _in you,_ I’ll—yeah.” Credence blushed a little and pressed his face into Percy’s chest. Even with everything they’d done last night he still felt a little shy about saying dirty things.

“Oh, now, where’s that beautifully filthy mouth I was introduced to last night?” Percy teased him. “I liked _that_ a lot, in case you were wondering.”

“I liked it too,” Credence admitted, unable to hold back a little grin. “I said I wanted to make you come, and then you did…kind of felt like I had magic powers. But, um. Other than that I don’t really… _know_ what I like yet. Is that—”

“Not a problem,” Percy quickly assured him. “Half the fun is going to be figuring out what kind of things you like. In fact…” He hauled Credence on top of him, causing Credence to emit a squeak of surprise. “We could start right now. I know for a fact that neither of us has anywhere to be today. If you’d like to spend the whole day right here, sweetheart, I _absolutely_ would not object.”

Credence liked that idea, a lot in fact, but… “I want to, but I don’t think I can. The HESI is a week from today…” He trailed off and shamefully broke their eye contact. If only he were a better student, he thought, he would already _be ready_ for the test and then he _could_ spend the whole day in bed with Percy and—

But Percy didn’t seem too put out by it. “Damn, that’s right. I’m sorry, Credence, I should’ve known.” He rolled Credence back off of him and sat up. “Well. Since I don’t have any plans for the day, I’ll stay here and help you study, how’s that?”

“Actually study?”

“Actually study,” Percy confirmed with a laugh. “We’ll have plenty of time for other things later. You’re spending Christmas break with me, remember?”

Credence did remember, and for the briefest moment all of the guilt from yesterday came rushing back. Then he saw the look in Percy’s eyes—the soft, almost-anxious delight, a signal that Percy, however impossibly, wanted that, no, _needed_ that as much as Credence did.

“I am,” he confirmed, and Percy looked so happy it almost made Credence tear up; how, he wondered, had he ever gotten so lucky?

~

Percy was a man of his word. For the next week he came over every night and helped Credence get ready for the test, and helped with the rest of his homework to keep him from getting overwhelmed. On the day of the exam he took a rare day off and personally drove Credence to school, quizzing him the whole way there, and waited for him until it was over. 

When the time came to take the test, Credence thought the HESI itself wasn’t that bad. Not any worse than the other tests, anyway; it was on the computer, like the NCLEX would be, and the questions weren’t really any harder than those in his book. He was one of the last out, and found Percy waiting in the hallway outside the classroom. “How’d you do?” he asked eagerly.

Credence shrugged and said, a little shyly, “I got a 1108.” He knew it was good—the screen readout said he was in the 96th percentile—but who knew if Dr. Graves, DNP, would be impressed?

Percy’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? Oh, Credence. My love. My absolute miracle.” He grabbed both of Credence’s hands in his. “Do you know what the cutoff grade is for an A on the HESI? It’s a 950,” he breathed, staring at Credence as if he’d never seen anything quite like him before. “And you…you got more than…oh my _God_ , Credence…”

The next thing Credence knew he was being swept off his feet into a kiss so passionate it seemed to suck the air from his lungs and the marrow from his bones. Every DNA strand in his body unraveled, every hair and cell melted and was replaced with nothing but _Percy Percy Percy_ —his arms were locked around Credence so tightly that he wasn’t sure Percy would ever let go—all he could smell, taste, _feel_ was Percy—the rest of the world didn’t matter—

And then, however distantly, it did, because Credence gradually became aware that there were wolf-whistles and cheers being aimed in their general direction. He felt the ground under his feet again (not that it mattered; his legs would hardly hold him up), felt Percy’s wonderful mouth pull away from his, looked around with the room still tilting and swooping around him.

“Oops,” Percy mouthed, his eyes wide and a little guilty.

Credence had quite forgotten in his excitement (and clearly, so had Percy) that 1) they were supposed to be keeping a low profile at school, and 2) they were in a hallway surrounded by a dozen other students who had just finished taking the exam. All of whom had just seen Credence get the most epic kiss of his life.

“Damn, look at that,” he heard Sirius Black say. “Barebone’s got _game_.”

“Oh, it’s not fair, all the cute ones are gay,” one of the female students sighed.

Credence couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t exactly enjoy being the center of attention, but it was nice to be the object of envy for once instead of being called a freak. “I, um. I have to go back to class in a minute,” he reminded Percy. It was, he thought, remarkably unfair that he had class after a standardized test. But that was just how things were, he supposed.

Percy leaned in and gave him one last quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll wait for you, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you. And I love you so much, you know that?”

Oh, Credence knew. By this point he couldn’t _not_ know. Even if they’d never said it, the way Percy was looking at him would’ve said it all.

~

“Damn it, that was all wrong. Try it again.”

Credence winced as he carefully withdrew the IV from Luna Lovegood’s arm and pressed sterile cotton over the wound. “Maybe I could do it on someone else?” he suggested. He’d tried to do an IV stick on Luna twice now, with similarly unsuccessful results, and he hated to do it again.

“Again,” Lockhart repeated dispassionately, “and if you feel bad about hurting her, you know what the solution is… _do it right this time_.”

Credence resigned himself and Luna to their fates. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he untied the tourniquet and put it on her other arm.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said in her usual breezy voice. “I work in a bio lab, I’m used to needles.”

Maybe, but it didn’t make Credence feel any better. He’d thought the “doing IVs on each other” thing was a myth, but when they’d gathered for post-conference that day Lockhart announced that even though they wouldn’t have to do IVs until critical care they could get a jump on it now, and wouldn’t that be fun?

 _One more day,_ he reminded himself. _You have one more day after this and then you never have to see Lockhart again._

Credence messed up the IV again, this time poking Luna so hard he accidentally made her bleed. “All right, that’s it,” Lockhart growled. “Put a bandage on that. Congratulations, Barebone, you’ve officially become a liability. You’re lucky this is off the syllabus or it would mean another PIP for you.”

Neville had been watching and cringing the whole time. Now he spoke up. “Please let me help, I could show him how, there’s a way they taught us when I was in the medics, it’s really easy if—”

“Fine,” Lockhart cut him off impatiently. “The rest of you, go take a break.”

The others scattered, and Neville came and took the seat beside Credence. “You scared of needles?” he asked, and Credence shook his head. “Good, that’ll make this easier,” Neville said as he put on the tourniquet and wiped down the crook of his arm with the alcohol swab. “Now, watch. The trick is to find your vein first. Don’t slap it, just kind of flick gently with your fingertips. Like this. Now make a fist for me, that’s it—now, watch. Keep the skin stretched tight, and go in from the top.” He spread the skin around the vein with one hand and, as smooth as butter, slid the needle in with the other. 

“Wow.” Credence watched the needle disappear into his vein, more fascinated than hurt. “I can barely feel that at all. How are you—”

“Practice,” Neville cut him off with a grin. Still one-handed, he taped the IV into place. “There. See? It doesn’t really hurt much if you do it right. That’s what used to trip me up— _oh my God, I’m hurting them_ , you know—but if _you_ relax, your patient usually will too.”

He slid out the needle, pressed sterile cotton over the tiny puncture mark until it stopped bleeding, and then pushed up his sleeve and held his arm out so Credence could try. “I don’t know if I can do it the way you did,” Credence began uncertainly.

Neville handed him the IV kit and pointed out, “Well, you won’t get any better if you don’t practice, right?”

He was right, but that didn’t make Credence any more eager to stick him. Just as he was about to tie the rubber tourniquet around Neville’s arm, there was a tap on the conference room door, and in came a tall, distinguished-looking man with fair, greying hair and intense dark eyes. “I hope I’m not intruding,” he said smoothly, looking directly at Dr. Lockhart.

“Well, of course not,” Lockhart said with a grin, promptly getting up and going over to award the man a handshake and a light, brotherly embrace. “You’re always welcome here…though I gotta say, I don’t know why you’d ever leave that nice office of yours and slum it with us.”

“Oh, it’s hardly ‘slumming.’ I do miss my days on the floor, you know.” He looked at the equipment on the conference table. “I see you’re doing IVs today?”

“We sure are.” He turned to Neville and Credence. “Boys, come on over and say hello. This here is one of the most important people at Macusa.”

The newcomer dismissed this with a casual wave of his hand. “Hardly, Gilderoy, hardly. He likes to exaggerate,” he added to Credence and Neville as they came around the conference table to greet him. “Take what he says with a grain of salt, gentleman.”

Lockhart, predictably, ignored the criticism. “This is Gellert Grindelwald, our chief nursing informatics officer.” He put a hand on Neville’s shoulder and urged him forward, nudging Credence aside. “Gellert, this is Neville Longbottom, he’s one of my shining stars here…accelerated BSN student, former medic for the Marines, now he’s a civilian medic and far and above one of my best.”

Neville smiled graciously and shook the man’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” 

“Likewise, I’m sure.” Mr. Grindelwald’s eyes briefly combed over Neville, sizing him up. “Accelerated, you say? I took that track myself. Tell me, Neville, have you any plans for further education once you’ve got your BSN?”

Neville shook his head. “Oh, definitely not…I want to work in the ED, or even just general med-surg. My wife’s the ambitious one, she’s a surgery resident over at U of M. I just want to not be totally useless while she’s out saving the world.”

Both Mr. Grindelwald and Dr. Lockhart laughed indulgently at that. “Well, if you change your mind, of course you could consider joining my department, though if you’re used to the military I’m afraid it might be a touch too slow for you,” Mr. Grindelwald said, and then turned his attention to Credence. “But who, I wonder, is this shy young thing hiding behind you?”

“Oh,” Lockhart said carelessly, “that’s my _other_ accelerated student. Don’t bother with him, he’s not going to make it through anyway.”

Neville scowled and turned to pull Credence out from behind him. “I’ve actually found Credence to be very capable,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Dr. Lockhart as he gently nudged Credence forward. “He and I were partners for assessment lab, he’s got the best bedside manner you’ll ever see—and he _does_ want to keep going with more education and stuff after he’s done with his BSN.”

“Is that so? What’s your name, my boy?” Mr. Grindelwald prompted him, and held out his hand.

“Credence Barebone, sir.” Credence accepted the handshake and did his best to imitate Neville’s warm smile. “I don’t _know_ if I’m going to get any more degrees, it’d depend on whether or not I can get funding for it,” he added candidly.

“With your lack of initiative, good luck getting any grants,” Lockhart told him snidely.

Mr. Grindelwald, on the other hand, looked at him closely. “Have you ever considered informatics?” he asked.

Credence shook his head. “No…I was leaning towards going for an MSN, and then getting a certification in palliative care. I like giving comfort care.”

“I see. Well, that is quite admirable, of course…but I should tell you, if you were to consider switching specialties, you could not only make a great deal more money, but you would have infinitely more opportunities.” He nodded to Dr. Lockhart and said, “I take it from my friend’s less-than-impressed attitude that floor nursing isn’t quite your forte. That’s all right, it’s not for everyone. But with informatics, you’re controlling the hospital’s workflow. The power to make real change is in your hands.”

Credence had known about nurse informaticists before now, but he’d never thought of it as a career option. Now, however, he had to admit he was intrigued. “I’d never thought of that before. It’s—” He shot a quick look at Neville, who put a hand on his shoulder to encourage him to go on. “It’s not that I don’t _like_ floor nursing, Mr. Grindelwald, I do, and I was hoping to keep at it. I’m just…I don’t think I’m very good at it yet.”

“He’s not,” Lockhart snorted. “You should’ve seen him trying to put in an IV just now, Gellert. He was just about making me cry.”

“And he was just about to try again,” Neville said fiercely. To Credence he said, “Come on, I bet you’ll be a lot better now that you’ve seen how to do it right.”

Lockhart started to demur, but Mr. Grindelwald promptly said, “If you don’t mind, Credence, I would like to see you in action.” Credence privately thought he’d do worse now with an audience, but between Neville and Mr. Grindelwald he had no way of getting out of it.

He tried to do it exactly as Neville had. Prep first, find the vein, keep the skin tight, go in from the top. “Relax,” Neville reminded him with a smile as Credence spread his fingers over the crook of his arm. “Deep breath. The calmer you are, the less likely you are to hurt your patient.”

Credence did as he said and stopped to take a breath before he very carefully slid in the butterfly needle. Neville didn’t flinch, which he hoped was a good sign. He taped up the IV tubing one-handed, not as smoothly as Neville had, but it didn’t look too bad. He looked up hopefully and saw that his classmate was smiling. “See? Barely felt it,” Neville told him encouragingly. “What’d I tell you? Just takes a little practice.”

Mr. Grindelwald came over and checked the IV site. “Well, look at that. I doubt I could’ve done better myself…granted, I’m a little rusty. But still.” He gave Credence a friendly pat on the arm. “See that? With a little encouragement you do just fine.”

As the others filed back in, Mr. Grindelwald handed Credence a business card. “Next winter when you graduate, give me a call. Don’t you mind what Gilderoy says, he’s a good practitioner but he gets caught up in his own preconceived ideas of what makes a good student. I, however, prefer to meet people where they are. I know a good thing when I see it.” He gave Credence a warm smile. “And you, young Credence, are _absolutely_ a very good thing. Now, do keep in touch, I like to know how my future investments are doing.” 

Neville pulled him aside as the other students paired off to practice IVs again. “He likes you,” he whispered excitedly. “See? Forget Lockhart. I bet when you get a new clinical instructor next semester, you’ll do a lot better.”

Credence looked down at the business card in his hand and let himself hope that Neville might be right.

~

Another day, another failure.

“Clear,” Graves said dully, before reaching over to press the button on the AED. The shock rolled through the _(dead,_ Graves’ mind helpfully supplied) patient, and unsurprisingly, the heartbeat did not pick back up. The RN began chest compressions again. The EKG, however, announced the pointlessness of that action with a loud wail. “Asystole,” Graves reported flatly. “I’d say we’re done.”

“Indeed we are,” Dr. Dumbledore agreed, and called the time of death. Graves swore under his breath and stalked away, leaving the cleanup to the CNAs this time. He couldn’t stand to look at the body for another minute.

He stayed late again, doing paperwork and trying to tell himself that it hadn’t been his fault. The fact was, however, that this patient should not have died. She had been on the upswing before she’d had a massive heart attack today. That was something he should have seen coming, something he should have fixed.

Graves was just starting on his last patient chart when he heard a voice that, even five years later, made him freeze up like a misbehaving computer. “Burning the candle at both ends tonight, are we, my pet?”

 _Don’t turn around. Don’t look at him. Pretend he doesn’t exist._ Graves sat tense and silent, hand frozen on the mouse. He was partly blocked at least, he knew, by the cabinet where the floor nurses kept their drinks. The monster _could_ see him, if he leaned back far enough. But he wouldn’t. He’d just…stay still.

He heard a low, throaty laugh. “Oh, you know how it is, darling. Just a few too many codes today.” Dumbledore sounded a little too _soft,_ in Graves’ opinion, for someone talking about multiple dead patients. “But what are you still doing here? You should be home already, it’s almost six.”

“Oh, come now. How could I be anywhere _but_ where you are, dearest?” the other man cooed, and Graves’ stomach turned. _Dearest._ Oh, but that brought back memories. “I thought you might need a break. Couldn’t I tempt you to take a nice little break in your office? A nice, soothing hot drink and some… _stimulating_ conversation, perhaps?”

“I suppose a short break couldn’t hurt,” came the soft purr of Dumbledore’s voice, and then mercifully Graves heard the slam of the door to the doctor’s office and he knew it was safe to escape. He shut down the computer and fled to the safety of his own office. He had a computer in there, he thought; he could finish his work in private, get a chance to recover from…

 _From what?_ he scolded himself as he pulled up the patient file on his computer. _You didn’t see him, he didn’t see you. How terrible, hearing him talk to his husband, what a monster, right?_ He knew it wasn’t that simple. He’d been told by Dr. Firenze, many times, that _trauma recovery isn’t linear_. But he didn’t much feel like being charitable to himself at the moment. 

It took him three tries to correctly chart one medication reconciliation and he knew if he was going to get any work done, he needed to do something. What he wanted more than absolutely anything was to be held. To feel someone _protect_ him, as desperately uncomfortable as it made him feel to even think it.

He meant to text Newt, ask if they could go for a drink that night, let off some steam; it wasn’t what he really wanted but it was close enough, and he always felt safe with his best friend. But instead he found himself pulling up Credence’s contact. **_May I see you tonight, sweetheart? I know you have to study for your finals. I won’t stay the night. I just want to be with you, just for a few minutes._ **

The reply came less than a minute later. **Of course! You’ll have to wait a bit, though, I’m still at Macusa. I stayed late to help Lilah do inventory.**

Oh, this was perfect, more than Graves ever could have even dreamed of. **_I’m still here too, actually. You can come up, if you like._ **

**I’ll be there in just a minute. Lilah wants to come see you too, is that okay?** When Graves confirmed it was, Credence immediately replied, **Okay. I’ll be up soon. I love you. <3**

Graves heard the open and close of Dumbledore’s office door, the low voices of the married couple, and the ding of the elevator. He relaxed a little; they were gone, likely for the rest of the day. Not two minutes later, there was a perfunctory tap on his office door before Lilah waltzed in. “You look like crap,” she said in such a fond tone it sounded like a declaration of love. “What happened?”

“If you have to ask, you probably already know. Where’s Credence?”

“In the cafe.” She rolled her eyes affectionately. “He went to get you coffee. You do know you’re dating an actual saint, right?”

“Don’t I ever.” Graves sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s nothing. It was a long day, and then…” He gestured vaguely in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. _“He_ showed up.”

“Ooh.” Lilah winced. “Fuck, I’m sorry. He didn’t creep on you, did he?”

“Didn’t even see me. So of course I panicked and texted my boyfriend to come and baby me even though _nothing fucking happened,”_ Graves said bitterly.

“Hey, don’t talk like that, it’s only natural that you’d be upset at being around him again,” Lilah chided him softly. She paused, and then asked, “Does Credence know what happened? I’m not going to push you to tell him if he doesn’t,” she added when Graves shot her a _don’t ask, don’t tell_ look. “I’m asking so that I don’t wind up saying something stupid in front of him.”

“He doesn’t know,” Graves admitted quietly. “I’ve been telling everyone, and by everyone I mean Newt, that I don’t think he needs to know, that it would only upset him…but the truth is, Ly, I don’t think I know _how_ to tell him.”

Before she could respond to that, there was a tap on the door, and this time the person on the other side waited for Graves to say come in. And there was Credence, holding a cup of fresh coffee and looking more like an Actual Saint than ever. “I’m here,” he said without preamble, setting the coffee down and reaching out to take Graves’ hand in his. “Are you okay?”

“That’s my cue to disappear,” Lilah said brightly. “I’ll see you guys later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“You do realize how much leeway that gives us,” Graves pointed out.

Lilah quirked her eyebrows at him. “Oh, don’t I ever,” she said with a lascivious little grin, most likely to make Credence blush (which he did) before she left.

“What happened? You look upset,” Credence said when she was gone.

Graves shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just being dramatic, as usual.”

“You don’t have a dramatic bone in your body,” Credence insisted. “If something bad happened you can tell me, you know. I guarantee whatever it is, I’ve probably seen worse.”

That was exactly why Graves didn’t want to tell him. After a long pause followed by a heavy sigh, he shut down his computer. “Can we go to the patient family lounge down the hall? This time of day no one’s there.”

“Of course.” Credence followed him to the lounge and seemed surprised when Graves turned off the lights and closed the door. It would look now like no one was there, like the lounge was closed, and would prolong the window in which they’d have more or less total privacy.

Graves sat down on one of the hard plastic love seats. Not ideal, but it would suit his purpose. “I need to ask you a favor,” he began carefully, “it’s going to sound strange, and if you don’t want to you don’t have to—”

“Percy,” Credence cut him off, “please, just tell me. Whatever it is I promise I won’t freak out.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” He took a deep breath and said as quickly as he could, trying to get it over with, “Will you please come sit with me and—and just—let me be close to you? I—I just want to—I want—”

He couldn’t get the words out. _I want you to hold me. I want you to put your arms around me and let me hide my face in your chest, so I can feel safe. I don’t need protection but I need comfort…please…_

Credence looked every bit as confused as Graves had expected, but he willingly came over and took the seat beside him. “Do you just need a hug?” he asked. “Because that’s not strange at all. I need hugs, like, _all the time._ Come here.” He wrapped both arms around Graves and pulled him in close, using their height difference to his advantage and tucking Graves’ head into the crook of his neck. “Is this okay?”

It would have been better if they could have laid down, if Graves could have melted into Credence’s embrace and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. But for now, he decided, this would be enough. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Credence’s neck. “I’m sorry…it’s just been a really long day…just give me a minute, I’ll be fine…”

“Take as long as you need. I’ve got you.” Credence steadily ran a hand up and down Graves’ back and made low, soothing humming noises until something unlocked inside Graves and he felt compelled to go slack in Credence’s arms. “There you go, just relax,” Credence said gently. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

_But there’s nothing “okay” about this. I don’t want you to see me weak, ever, but God help me, I need this. I need it so badly and you’ll never understand why, because I can’t tell you. I need to be held and I fucking hate myself for it, because you deserve this kind of treatment more than I do and—_

“Mmm. I love this,” Credence whispered, his warm breath sending pleasant thrills down Graves’ spine. “Can we do it more often, maybe?”

 _Wait, what?_ Graves’ mental spiral ground to an abrupt halt. “I—well, sure, yeah. Can you, ah—can you tell me what you like about it?” he managed, his heartbeat picking up.

“I don’t know…I just feel really close to you right now. I mean, obviously we’re _close,”_ Credence said with a soft laugh, squeezing Graves to indicate the lack of space between their bodies. “I just mean…I can feel your heart beating. I can feel you breathing. It feels…really intimate. I don’t know. It’s nice.”

“You don’t mind…holding me like this? You really _like_ it?” Graves asked carefully, feeling a wave of treacherous hope swelling inside him.

“I mean, I did just ask if we could do it again, so _yes.”_

It was Graves’ turn to laugh, quiet and shaky, as he pressed his face deeper into Credence’s neck. “God, Credence…it makes me so happy to hear you say that, sweetheart. You don’t even know.”

“Oh…I think I do.” He reached up and gently scratched his fingers across the short hairs at the back of Graves’ neck, making him sigh in pleasure. “Oh, you like that…good. Listen, Percy, please don’t be nervous about asking me to do something you really want, okay? You do so much for me, it’s only fair you let me do stuff for you too…and besides, I like making you happy, you _know_ that.”

Graves did know that. Credence had made it pretty damn clear that was the case. So really, he thought hazily as Credence continued to stroke his hair and turn him into actual Jell-O, why deny himself something that ultimately made them both feel so good?

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered into the delicate curve of his lover’s neck. “God, I love you so much.”

Credence didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Graves could hear _I love you_ loud and clear in the way Credence held him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical Stuff TW spoiler: Credence and his classmates practice inserting IVs on each other, at one point an IV is inserted incorrectly and draws blood (not graphic). Extended description of the correct way to insert an IV (again not graphic or bloody, but if needles squick you out proceed with caution). Later, there's a brief description of Graves running another code, he loses the patient and storms off afterwards.
> 
> Lockhart TW spoiler (lol he's his own TW now, how fitting): While inserting IVs, Lockhart relentlessly bullies Credence instead of teaching him. (So in other words, business as usual.)
> 
> Implied rape TW spoilers: Graves overhears Grindelwald talking to Dumbledore while working late. Grindelwald doesn't see him or interact with him, but knowing that his assailant is so close scares Graves enough that he caves and asks Credence for comfort. No actual mentions or descriptions of rape, no flashbacks, the closest we get is when Lilah and Graves talk about Credence ("Does he know?"//"I don't know how to tell him"), and Lilah asks if Grindelwald "creeped on" Graves.
> 
> Self-victim blaming TW spoilers: Shaken after being in close proximity to the man who assaulted him, Graves reluctantly admits to Credence that he needs comfort and asks Credence to hold him, and internally berates himself for needing comfort in the first place because "nothing happened." Credence, who has absolutely zero context for any of this, tells him a generic "it's okay," and Graves responds by thinking it's not okay, "I need to be held and I fucking hate myself for it, because you deserve this kind of treatment more than I do."
> 
> A note re: students and IVs - THIS IS NOT A THING THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS. Once upon a time it was standard practice for students to learn IV insertion by doing it on each other. These days, that is NOT done anymore because we have these lovely things called simulation labs, where you can put in an IV on a lifelike mannequin so you don't, y'know, mutilate your classmates while learning how to stick the needle in. Lockhart making his students do it the old-school way just serves as a reminder that he is an absolutely TERRIBLE teacher who needs to be fired, like, yesterday.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allllll righty y'all...your reward for getting through Credence's final exam prep at the beginning of this chapter is some shameless fluffy smut and some emotional labor porn. You're welcome. ;)
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Some (very) mild mentions of Icky Medical Stuff at the beginning as Credence is reviewing for a nursing fundamentals exam (see also: Medical Junk Lightning Round in end notes if you're curious)  
> -Brief reference to the Catholic church and abusive clergy  
> -Couple of references to Credence's abusive childhood, including one moment of religious guilt  
> -Discussion of (what Credence thinks is) dating violence  
> -Brief reference to rape (and perhaps more problematic, said reference flying right over someone's head)  
> As always, check notes for TW spoilers. :)

“All right, it’s my turn. You ready, Cree?” When he nodded, Queenie picked up her phone and read, “Your patient presents to the ED with complaints of nausea and vomiting, a painful and swollen tongue, and fatigue, and they have lost five pounds in the last seven days. The most likely diagnosis is…aplastic anemia, leukemia, megaloblastic anemia, or menorrhagia?”

Beside her, Jacob shuddered a little. “Whatever it is, I hope I never catch it.”

“It’s megaloblastic anemia,” Credence told him with a laugh, “you don’t _catch_ it. You get it from…Queenie, it’s B-12 deficiency, right?”

“Exactly right,” she said happily, turning around her phone to show him the answer on the screen. “Teeny, you got one for him?”

“I do.” Tina flipped the page of the NCLEX prep book in her lap and read, “Which of the following are causes of metabolic acidosis? Select all that apply: Starvation, dehydration, atelectasis, shock, or renal failure.”

“All of them except atelectasis,” Credence answered confidently. “That would cause respiratory acidosis.”

“You got it.” She looked over to Percy, who had long dropped all pretense of searching for practice test questions and had arranged things so that Credence was half in his lap, one hand lazily stroking his knee. “Are you gonna stop petting him and ask a question, or are you skipping your turn?”

Percy shot her a mock-irritated look and squeezed Credence’s knee before he picked up his phone. “Okay Credence, you’ve got a patient in the ED with chest pain, nausea, epigastric pain, and shortness of breath. You look at the EKG and see abnormally deep, wide Q-waves, which is a sign of…atrial septal defect, ventricular hypertrophy, left-sided heart failure, or myocardial infarction?”

“We didn’t go much into EKGs this semester…so I have no idea,” Credence admitted.

“Okay, just think. Could it possibly be an atrial septal defect?” Credence shook his head; that much he knew. “No, because that’s a birth defect, not a result of heart disease, right? So we can cross that one off. I know you know the symptoms of left-sided heart failure. Would that patient have nausea and a stomachache? No. _Now_ do you think you can tell me?”

“No. I still don’t know what an EKG looks like for a heart attack or ventricular hypertrophy.” He looked down, ashamed, and hid his face in a couch pillow.

“Stop worrying about the EKG,” Percy ordered him, tugging away the pillow. “That’s just throwing you off. They have radiating chest pain, they’re nauseous, they can’t breathe. What do you think is happening?”

“I know those are heart attack symptoms, but—”

“Exactly. Listen, love, if you see a question and don’t immediately know the answer, you have to stop and think _what are they really asking?_ You got thrown off here because you thought they were asking you to interpret an EKG, but the question really was, _is this patient having a heart attack._ ”

“Okay.” Credence managed to look up again, and felt a drug-like wave of relief hit him when he saw Percy was smiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be. You’re not going to get every question.” He reached over and gently squeezed Credence’s hand. “You’re doing fine, love. You’re going to kill your final, and then you’ll have a few weeks off to rest. Which you have _more_ than earned.”

“Speaking of which…” Tina slammed shut the NCLEX prep book on her lap and stood up. “It’s almost nine o’clock. We’ve been at this for hours now, and I think it’s time to stop.”

Oops. Credence felt guilty all over again; he’d gladly accepted the offer when his boyfriend and roommates had offered to help him study, but he hadn’t meant to use up their whole afternoon. “Oh…I didn’t mean to keep you guys tied up so long. I’m sorry. Here, give me that, I’ll go downstairs and study.”

He reached for the NCLEX book, but Tina held it out of his reach. “No way. You’re as ready as you’re going to be and if you keep trying to cram more information into your head you’re just going to feel worse when you go in there tomorrow.” She looked to Percy. “Back me up here.”

“She’s right, sweetheart.” Percy reached up and patted his knee. “You’ll do much better tomorrow if you relax, than you will if you keep reviewing right up until you go to bed. Trust me.” He gently nudged Credence’s legs off his lap. “So do something nice for yourself tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow after your test, okay?”

“Wait, no…I don’t want you to go,” Credence protested, clinging to Percy’s hand when he tried to walk away.

Percy just laughed and pulled him to his feet. “I know, but if I stay another hour I’ll end up staying all night. And I know you don’t see anything wrong with that now, but you will in the morning. So walk me out, even though you don’t want to, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Credence couldn’t help but pout, just a little; he _did_ want Percy to stay, but he knew it was the right thing to sleep alone that night. It wasn’t that he didn’t sleep well when Percy was there—quite the opposite, in fact. The problem was that they slept so well with each other that they had yet to master the art of getting up on time the next morning, and tomorrow he _really_ couldn’t afford to be late.

So he got up and walked over to the door with Percy, who was considerate enough to wait until the others were well out of sight before he leaned in and gave Credence a good-bye kiss that made his knees buckle, and promised in a soft, seductive whisper, “I’ll do whatever you want when you’re done with your test. Or you can do whatever you want to me; I’ll leave it up to you.”

Credence watched him go, knowing he was staring after him like a dreamy-eyed heroine in a romance novel and not caring a single bit. Then, after dodging a handful of well-meaning offers from his roommates to have a movie or game night, he went downstairs to his apartment, headed straight for the shower, and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it. When he stepped inside it felt so good he actually moaned out loud.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nice long shower. He just hadn’t had the time. But tonight he stayed in as long as he wanted and let the warmth and pressure of the water ease the tension in his muscles. _Ahhh. Heaven._ He used aromatherapy soap that was supposed to improve sleep, and took the time to put on the matching sweet-smelling lotion (a present from Queenie, who seemed to always _know_ when Credence wanted something he was too embarrassed to buy for himself) when he eventually had to get out.

When he pulled back the curtains on his bed, there was a surprise waiting for him: a giant, fluffy purple-and-white stuffed unicorn, which Percy must have snuck into his bed at some point when Credence had been distracted. He pulled the squashy plush toy into his arms and hugged it tight. It even _smelled_ like Percy, his rich spicy cinnamon-and-coffee scent, and the thoughtfulness of the gesture nearly brought Credence to tears.

Underneath the unicorn was a little note: _I thought you could use a little extra comfort tonight. Knock ’em dead tomorrow, sweetheart. I love you._

“Oh, Percy,” Credence sighed. “I don’t deserve you.”

He crawled into bed with his unicorn and pressed his face into the soft fabric. Percy’s scent was all around him, and the comfort of having something warm and soft to snuggle with was beyond measure. He was already relaxed from the shower, but this was the final piece of a perfect puzzle. Credence was asleep in minutes—something that happened so rarely it shocked him into waking a half-hour before his alarm went off the next morning.

~

“Not that I’m complaining, but isn’t it just a little cliche,” Credence said as he wrapped his arms around Percy and nuzzled his neck, “to give someone you’re dating a stuffed animal?”

They were curled up on Credence’s bed, celebrating the near-perfect 98 that Credence had gotten on his final. He’d had to wait all day for Percy to get out of work (poor Percy was working extra hours since he planned to take time off over the holidays) but now they were together, and Credence didn’t have to think about school for three whole weeks.

“Hey, you said you liked things to be old-fashioned. I’m just trying to deliver,” Percy teased. “You know what, though?” he went on, a little more serious as he pulled back to look at Credence. “You told me your first kiss was in a club when you were twenty-three; mine was under the bleachers during a sixth-grade baseball game. I just thought, you didn’t get to have those innocent, low-stakes ‘firsts’…I wanted you to get to have a little bit of that, I guess. Oh God, is that weird? If I’m making you uncomfortable here I’m sor—”

Unable to stifle the overwhelming wave of love crashing over him, Credence all but catapulted himself back into Percy’s arms and kissed him for all he was worth. “That,” he said, his voice trembling, “was _the most romantic thing_ you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah?” Percy reached up and cupped the base of Credence’s head in both hands, fingers tangling in his long hair. “Made you feel good to hear that, huh? Hmm, what else…how about, since we can’t exactly crash a school formal, I’ll take you to one of those terrible local community-center dances? We’ll slow-dance to some sappy nineties power ballad, drink Kool-aid punch, make out in the back of the car and pretend we have to get home by curfew…”

As he spoke he leaned in and began to press a line of soft, gentle kisses up Credence’s neck. “Mmm…yeah?” Credence squirmed a little. “What el— _oh,_ ” he moaned as Percy nuzzled the spot just below his ear. 

“I want to take you to the movies and share a bag of popcorn, and watch you get all squirmy when our fingers touch.” He paused there to flick his tongue over the curve of Credence’s neck. “And then I’ll take you to the mall, and we’ll just walk around holding hands. Get one of those giant pretzels at the food court, maybe.”

Credence let out a soft whine as Percy slid his hands under his shirt. The low, seductive cadence of Percy’s voice was so good, it was turning him on every bit as much as the tender kisses and touches. “How many— _oh_ that’s nice—awkward high-school dates can you come up with— _ohhh_ , Percy, _please_ —” 

Percy let out a rough little laugh that sent a thrill down Credence’s spine. “Oh, I can do this _all night_ , sweetheart.” He continued to caress Credence’s skin under his shirt as he went on, “Let’s see…I want to leave you little notes in your locker. Maybe candy too, and then when they’re in season those little foil valentine cards with superheroes on them—”

Credence had been aware that he was beginning to get almost unbearably turned on, but suddenly it overwhelmed him and, without meaning to, his hips rolled against Percy’s. He let his head fall back, trembling as tingling pleasure shot down his spine; he didn’t come, but it was a close thing.

Percy reached up to let his hand settle over Credence’s racing heart. “You can do that again,” he offered, eyes sweeping over Credence almost nervously. “If it’s what you really want…”

Credence _did_ want to keep going; his body was a live wire, humming with delicious anticipation even as his heart fluttered with nerves. He remembered how good it had felt last time, seeing Percy fall apart underneath him…

He squirmed away from Percy and pulled off his shirt. “Clothes off. Now,” he ordered roughly. Percy followed the command immediately, eyes dark with lust, and Credence shivered as a wave of powerful arousal crashed over him. “Lie down,” he demanded. Percy did, still watching him through lust-drunk eyes. He crawled over and straddled Percy, still in his soft lounge pants, and ground down against him, slow and deliberate. “Tell me what you like.”

Percy let out a strangled little _unh_ , cleared his throat, blinked about twenty times, and finally managed to get out, “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“I want to…” Credence licked his lips and ground down again, just to feel how hard Percy was ( _I did that,_ he thought, exhilarated). “I want to make you come,” he breathed. “I want to see it, you were so hot the other night, it turned me on so much to see you like that…please, Percy…tell me what you want…”

Percy let out a soft gasp and reached up, his hands tightly gripping Credence’s waist as his head fell back. “God, Credence!” His back arched a little, hips canting upward to seek more friction. He took a slow, shuddering breath. “Can I have your hand this time, sweetheart? Please?”

Oh. _Oh,_ that was a lovely idea…if touching his own dick felt sinful, Credence thought with a little shiver, touching _someone else’s_ was so darkly decadent it was almost beyond comprehension. He slid back until he was kneeling between Percy’s legs and warned him, “I’ve only ever done this to myself, so…if I get it wrong, please tell me.”

Percy let out a breathy little laugh. “Oh, love, trust me, I don’t think you _can_ get it wrong, just the way you look at me is enough to— _ahhh!”_

The “ahhh!” came when Credence wrapped a cautious hand around the hard length in front of him and gave it a slow, experimental stroke. When that got such a delightful reaction he did it again, eyeing Percy closely for any signs of discomfort, thrilled to see only pleasure written across his face instead.

Credence hadn’t touched himself very often, but he’d done enough “hands on” experimentation to have a general idea of how to proceed. He knew, for instance, that the tip was more sensitive than the shaft, so with his next stroke he swirled his thumb over the slick head. Percy made another pitchy noise that Credence took to mean _good job_ and kept doing just that, teasing the head with each stroke and using the pulses of fluid that leaked from the tip as a makeshift lubricant.

“Is this okay?” he asked, unable to keep his voice steady as he watched Percy writhe. “I’m not being too rough?”

“No, God no—it’s so good, sweetheart, _so good_ —” Percy arched up when Credence swiped his thumb over the head of his dick again, his hands clutching the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Oh God—I’m so close—”

Credence’s own arousal was building rapidly; he was mesmerized by the sight of his boyfriend lost in pleasure _because of him_. “Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me how to make you feel good. Tell me how to make you come.” He made a mental note to do some incognito-browser research next time he was alone; the fact that his dirty talk was so limited was really almost embarrassing.

But Percy didn’t seem to mind his limited vocabulary. “K-Keep talking,” he breathed, his hips twitching up into Credence’s touch. “Oh _fuck,_ please—”

And then Credence recalled how turned on he’d been only moments ago, when Percy had gotten him to the brink of climax…by whispering in his ear about how he wanted to take Credence to the movies and give him penny valentines. _What_ he said, he realized, didn’t matter half as much as _how_ he said it.

“Relax, just feel it,” he urged Percy in a low voice as he increased the pace of his strokes. “It’s nice, isn’t it, feels _so good,_ you really like it, don’t you? If I keep touching you…” Percy let out a keening noise that almost made Credence come himself. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you,” he whispered, and swiped his thumb over the copiously-leaking head of Percy’s dick—

And Percy _lost it._ With another high keen from the very back of his throat he let go, his back arching sharply as he came so hard that his release splattered across Credence’s thighs. Credence watched, his eyes wide and his pulse throbbing, as Percy slowly relaxed again. His breath came in short, jagged gasps; his eyes had rolled back, his eyelids were fluttering and he looked absolutely _wrecked._

Credence liked that. He liked that _a lot._ He stretched out alongside Percy so he could snuggle up to him, and that was nice, too: feeling Percy melt into his arms as he drifted back down from the high of his climax. For a long, lovely moment there was nothing but the sound of their mingled panting and the thrum of Percy’s gradually-slowing heartbeat against Credence’s arm.

Finally, Percy’s eyes flickered open and found Credence’s. “That was…” He had to stop and take a breath. “That was incredible, sweetheart,” he sighed, letting his head roll to the side and fall against Credence’s shoulder. “Thank you, love. Thank you so much. Just…just give me a second here…”

He shifted a little, and Credence let out an involuntary little gasp as Percy’s thigh brushed against his achingly hard dick. “Oh,” he breathed, and then moaned softly as Percy reached out and caressed him through his damp lounge pants.

“Mmm, what’s this? Did seeing me come turn you on that much?” Percy stroked him so softly and gently it almost tickled. “Want me to return the favor? I’d very much like to, if you’re all right with that.”

Credence hadn’t intended to demand or even request any reciprocation, but now he found himself asking, “What’d you have in mind?”

Percy nuzzled against his neck, his lips lightly brushing Credence’s skin as he whispered, “I would _really_ love to go down on you. Kind of been fantasizing about it, actually…may I, please?”

“Oh!” Credence perhaps shouldn’t have been taken aback, but in his defense, no one had ever done that to him before. “Oh…uh. Okay. Yeah, let’s…let’s try that.”

“All right then, take off your pants and sit up against the headboard.” Percy watched as Credence did as he was told. “There, just like that…” He lay between Credence’s legs and rested his head against the crease of his thigh, looking reverently up at him. “God, you’re beautiful,” Percy sighed. “I’m sure I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

Credence was about to protest that he was the lucky one when Percy rolled over to his stomach and pressed a kiss to the inside of Credence’s thigh. With a soft little _mmm_ he flicked his tongue out to taste the sensitive skin, sending a bolt of raw arousal through Credence like lightning. “Trust me,” he whispered, and then pressed his lips to the very tip of Credence’s length, licking up the resulting swell of fluid before sucking the head into his mouth.

 _“Ohhh…”_ Credence let his head fall back against the wall, fingers clenching the sheets as Percy slowly, gently swallowed him down. He’d never felt anything like this before. It was _not_ like touching himself, not at all. Percy’s mouth was wet and hot and absolutely _perfect,_ and every stroke brought Credence closer to the edge until he was panting hard and almost crying with how good it felt.

And all of that was lovely in and of itself, of course. But when Credence finally managed to draw in a ragged breath and pull his head forward so he could look down and see what was happening, the sight of Percy lying between his legs, cock halfway down his throat and looking up at Credence with an expression that could only be described as lovesick…oh, that was _too much._ That, in tandem with the incredible heat of Percy’s mouth, made him come so hard he nearly blacked out.

When his head cleared he realized Percy’s head was still resting in his lap. He lifted a weak hand to comb through Percy’s hair as he tried to get his breath back. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the freaking camel _,_ Percy,” he gasped, his free hand coming up to press against his racing heart.

Percy laughed at his choice of words. “Should I take that as a compliment?” he teased. “I’ve been told I give good head before, but never with quite such, uh, _inventive_ phrasing.”

It struck Credence as patently unfair that Percy was using words with that many syllables, while he was sitting there gasping and shaking. “I think you broke me,” he finally managed to get out. “That was…wow.”

“Good _wow,_ I hope?”

“Put it this way…if I’m going to hell,” Credence told him, finally pulling his head up off the wall so he could look down and see the lovely sight of Percy’s head in his lap, “at least I’ll get to take that memory with me.”

Percy’s smile was initially quite smug, but when he heard _I’m going to hell_ the smile melted away and his eyes went soft. “Oh, love. Satan would have to answer to me, before I let him take you to hell.”

“Do you even believe in hell?” Credence winced at his own question. “I’m sorry…that was rude.”

“No, not at all rude. I was raised Catholic, actually. Mum and Morgan and the family all go to an Episcopal church now, they broke with the Catholic church a while back, not a fan of all the degenerate clergy. I go to church with them on holidays if I’m not working. And honestly, I do still fall back on some of the old prayers and rituals and the like if I need the…comfort, I guess, you know?” And then it was his turn to wince. “Of course you don’t know. I doubt there’s anything about the church you’d find comforting.”

“That’s not true.” Credence couldn’t help but smile as he stroked Percy’s hair. “I did get a pretty spectacular kiss in a church, don’t forget.”

Percy laughed and let his eyes fall closed. “Oh, we can’t forget that. Definitely not,” he said with a sigh, as he relaxed into Credence’s touch.

Credence continued to play with Percy’s hair as he said slowly, “I don’t really know what I believe anymore. I’m sure God exists, but I have no idea what He’s really like. So I kind of spend half my time afraid that Ma was right, that I’m going to hell. And then the other half I look at the world and think, _no way could a God who just wants to send everyone to hell come up with something as beautiful as this.”_

“I like that. I’m going to tell my priest you said that,” Percy said thoughtfully. A slow smile crept over his face. “Oh, he’ll like you, Credence. And I have no doubt you’ll like him too. I was a little mean to him when we first met…let’s see, I was just starting my DNP, so it would’ve been about eight years ago…and the first thing I said to him was, _I’m gay and I don’t like priests._ To which he said, with a totally straight face, _well, my wife will be pleased to hear that.”_

Credence couldn’t hold back an amazed laugh. “You did _not_ introduce yourself to the _priest of your church_ like that!”

“I told you I was an asshole,” Percy reminded him with a shameless little chuckle. “You just haven’t been listening.”

“No one who goes out of their way to make me feel safe the way you do could possibly be an asshole. Anyone at Macusa who says that is just wrong. And stupid, probably, too.” Credence shifted until he was laying back, with Percy’s head resting on his stomach instead of his thigh. “Is this okay?”

Percy let out a contented little sigh and nuzzled his nose against Credence’s belly. “Mmm, yes. Very okay. Are _you_ comfortable like this?”

“Yeah. I like it. I think you like it too,” he added, thinking of the lovely moment they’d shared in the patient lounge at Macusa.

There was a moment of surprisingly tense silence. Then Percy said tentatively, “Do we need to…talk about that? What happened at Macusa, I mean.”

“No. You had a bad day, you wanted a hug. That’s all I need to know. That, and it felt really nice to cuddle you, and you said we could do it again.” Credence could feel the surprise practically radiating off Percy, so he added, “Look, you never pushed me to tell you my secrets. If something bad happened that night at the hospital, I don’t need to know unless you want to tell me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Percy admitted reluctantly. “It’s just…I don’t know _how,_ sweetheart.”

“Is there any part of it you _can_ talk about?” Credence prompted him gently. “Telling you that I left the church was the easy part. Letting you see the scars was harder, but I could do it. When you put it together so I didn’t have to spell it out for you…I can’t even tell you how relieved I was to not have to say it out loud.”

Percy was quiet for a moment. Then, very softly, “I think…all you really need to know, I guess, is that before I met you…I told you, I was alone for a pretty good while. It wasn’t because I was busy or career-focused or too picky, though I know that’s what everyone thinks. I…I loved someone. Or I thought I did. But they didn’t return the feeling, and they ended up using me and…hurting me, very badly. It was…well. Kind of hard to trust anyone for a while, after that.”

“Oh…” Credence stayed very still for a moment, processing everything that Percy had just said…and everything he _hadn’t_ said. 

Because on the surface, really, it didn’t sound that bad. A harsh, sudden breakup could really hurt, yes, but it wasn’t some deep dark secret; everyone had _those._ There had to be more to it than _I just loved someone who didn’t love me back._ He recalled Percy cringing away when Credence had touched his neck, and his earnest plea of _don’t be too rough with me_. Put that together with Percy’s obvious anxiety when he’d asked to be held… _he wasn’t just ashamed of needing a hug,_ Credence thought, _he was afraid to let me see him vulnerable…_ and Credence thought he might have a fairly good idea of what happened.

The mysterious ex hadn’t just broken Percy’s heart (although as far as Credence was concerned, that alone would have been unforgivable). When Percy said _he hurt me,_ he meant _physically._

For a moment, boiling hot anger rose inside Credence like a tsunami. A part of him wanted to demand a name, to mete out punishment, to seek out a fight for the first time in his life—but no, Percy wouldn’t want that. Percy was, contrary to what his reputation at Macusa might suggest, achingly gentle and kind. He wouldn’t want Credence to beat someone up on his behalf. (Which was just as well, given that Credence was utterly useless in a fight.)

So instead he reached down and lightly stroked Percy’s back, the way Percy always did for him, until he felt Percy relax against him. There was so much he wanted to say— _it’s all right, you’re safe with me, I won’t hit you or shove you or do whatever else he did, no one will ever hurt you again if I can help it, please let me hold you_ —but none of it felt right, and he was afraid of hurting Percy’s pride by implying that he _needed_ to be protected or saved.

So all he said, with as much tender meaning behind the words as he could muster, was, “It’s all right. It sucks that happened to you, but he’s gone, and _I’m_ here now and…and Percy, I love you, I love you _so much._ You are…you are everything I’ve ever wanted. You really are.”

“Oh, Credence…” Percy let out a soft, trembling laugh, and Credence could feel something suspiciously warm and wet dripping onto his belly as Percy’s arm tightened around his thighs. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

“Says the man coming to therapy with me tomorrow,” Credence said without thinking, and then clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Wait, really?” Percy pulled himself up and leaned over Credence, staring eagerly into his eyes. “You found someone you’d like to talk to? _Really?”_

Credence hadn’t told him where they were going tomorrow, just that he needed Percy to be out of work on time to “go somewhere.” Now he sheepishly nodded and said, “I didn’t want to tell you in case I chickened out. Is that…do you _mind?_ I just…I just know I’ll really want to see you when I’m done and—”

“Oh, my sweet boy, of _course_ I don’t mind.” Percy lay back down and pulled Credence into his arms. “So brave,” he murmured, cradling Credence’s head against his chest and tenderly stroking his hair. “So good…I’m so proud of you, darling. You amaze me.”

“Right back at you,” Credence sighed as he snuggled up against Percy and closed his eyes.

It probably made him a terrible person, but his new knowledge of Percy’s past made him feel safer and happier to be with him than ever before. Every single word that had just passed between them burned itself into Credence, into his very heart and soul like an emotional brand, wrapping itself around him like a snake and refusing to let go: _Percy was damaged too._

It shouldn’t have felt so good, knowing what he knew now; he should’ve been devastated to learn that this precious person who meant so much to him had experienced so much pain in his life—and he _did_ ache for Percy, because no one deserved to feel that way ever, but—

But it absolutely _thrilled_ him to know that Percy wasn’t a knight in shining armor. He had secrets. He knew anger and disappointment and fear. There were years of built-up pain shimmering and roiling beneath that deceptively beautiful facade. And now Credence knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Percy would _never_ judge him for feeling sad or anxious or needy.

“I love you,” he whispered against the curve of Percy’s neck. “I’m never letting you go.” Percy’s grip on him tightened, just enough to make him feel warm and secure, and Credence melted against him, knowing he’d been heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical Stuff TW spoilers: While Credence is studying for his fundamentals exam, there is some discussion of heart attacks, metabolic/respiratory imbalances, and anemia. Not at all graphic, very technical language used, NO mentions of actual blood, procedures, gore, etc.
> 
> Catholic church TW spoilers: Credence and Graves briefly discuss Graves' religious history, he mentions that he and his family went to the Catholic church until his mom pulled them out in protest after the story broke about priests abusing children. It did NOT happen to Graves or any of his family members, his mom just didn't want to be associated with the church after that. (Good for her.)
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: Couple of brief references to the fact that Credence didn't really *have* much of a childhood, and Graves mentions wanting to make it up to him.
> 
> Dating violence/sexual assault TW spoilers: Guhhh this one gets complicated. OKAY SO. Basically, right at the end of the chapter, Graves tries to tell Credence a little bit about what happened between him and Grindelwald. He phrases it like "he used me and hurt me," and Credence puts two and two together and ends up with five, assuming that Grindelwald physically abused Graves. Credence angrily thinks about finding and punishing Graves' ex, but lets it go and just tells him it's okay and that he loves him. At the end something good does come of it, however, as Credence finally recognizes that Graves has his own issues and is not some perfect person that Credence needs to impress.
> 
> Medical Junk lightning round:  
> Aplastic anemia: your body can't produce red blood cells  
> Leukemia: cancer of the blood  
> Megaloblastic anemia: red blood cells are swollen and misshapen and basically useless  
> Menorrhagia: abnormally heavy or prolonged menstrual bleeding  
> Metabolic acidosis: your kidneys are causing too much acid to be present in your blood and throws off your pH  
> Respiratory acidosis: same as above, except it's your lungs causing the problem  
> Atelectasis: either the lobe of the lung or the entire lung collapses after your air sacs deflate or fill up with fluid  
> EKG: heart monitor (this is the thing that flatlines in the movies :P )  
> Myocardial infarction: heart attack  
> Atrial septal defect: birth defect that causes a hole to form in the walls of the left and right atria in the heart, causing blood to flow in the wrong direction  
> Ventricular hypertrophy: your heart works really hard and your left ventricle muscle gets too big  
> Left-sided heart failure: similar to above, your heart's left atrium can't pump blood into the ventricle and thus can't get enough blood to the rest of the body


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be 100% blunt with you guys: this is the closest to a filler chapter that I've put up so far. Buuut at the same time I kind of feel like it's important because reasons. (Or: we gotta get through Credence Goes to Therapy, before we can get to the Super Cute Holiday Fluff.) ;)
> 
> Also, I'M ON TWITTER NOW GUYS OMG I FORGOT TO TELL YOU. Come hit me up @CupcakeFoggy if you wanna squee about fandom stuff together :)
> 
> Much as I love Emma Thompson, I'm using my childhood fancast, [Audra McDonald](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_S8o1iPqwCI), as therapist!Trelawney, just because I love her.
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Discussions/mentions of child abuse  
> -Negative self-talk/anxiety/low self-esteem (Credence, unsurprisingly)  
> -Mentions of a past abusive relationship (not between any of the main characters)  
> -Teasing/mocking/general mean-girl-ish behavior (unintentional, but it's still there)  
> See end notes for TW spoilers.

Mindfulness for Life Counseling & Hypnotherapy was located in a nondescript suite in a health complex that, from the outside, looked like an ordinary doctor’s office. Which, unfortunately, didn’t lessen Credence’s nerves one bit.

Percy sat with his arm around Credence while they waited, until office door opened and out came a kind-faced, dark-skinned woman in a flowy peasant dress and Credence shrank into Percy’s side instinctively _._ “Are you Credence?” the woman asked, and when he pressed his face into Percy’s shoulder she let out a soft, tinkling laugh and said, “There’s no need to be shy, dear. I don’t bite.”

“’m sorry,” he murmured, drawing his red face out of Percy’s shoulder. He forced himself to stand up. He felt Percy come with him, one hand resting protectively in the small of his back. 

“Don’t be sorry,” the smiling woman said, as she reached out to gently clasp his hand between both of hers. “It’s perfectly natural to be a little nervous. Now, I’m ready when you are.”

Once he was in the office with the door closed behind him, he breathed a little easier. There was a sense of finality to it that was calming: _I’m here. I did it. Whatever happens now, at least I got this far._ And the office itself was calming, too. The lighting was warm and comforting, natural light from the window mixing with the soft, rosy glow of the lamps. Pink lightbulbs, he realized with a smile. The room smelled of lavender, and there was a nice little fountain by the door that bubbled in a way that reminded him of a real stream. “That’s pretty,” he said, pointing to the fountain. He saw that it had real candles. “Oh, is that what’s making it smell so good in here?”

“It is. I find it calming, and most of my patients do, too.” She directed him to sit on the very soft, squashy couch. “My name is Sybil Trelawney. You may call me by my first or last name, whatever’s more comfortable for you.”

The nerves came back in full force. “I don’t know…”

“Then we’ll play it by ear,” she assured him quickly. “There’s nothing you can say in this room that’s wrong, dear.” She tilted her head to one side as she observed him. “You’ve dealt with too much for someone so young, haven’t you…you’ve certainly been abused, quite badly too from the looks of it…and it was by a woman, too, wasn’t it.”

“My mother,” he said, too surprised to feel embarrassed. “How did you know?”

“Well, to begin with, your spiritual energy—no, I won’t go there, you aren’t ready for that yet. Let’s just say sixteen years as a therapist has taught me what to look for.” She noted his surprise again and added with a laugh, “I’m older than I look, yes. Anyway…I do need to ask, are you quite sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable with a male therapist?”

Credence shook his head. “No. To tell you the truth, ma’am, I’m going to be uncomfortable no matter who the therapist is,” he admitted. “But you’re right. It was…really bad. She used to…to hit me with my belt, a lot. Among other things.” He clutched a throw pillow to his chest as he finished in a whisper, “I’ve never told anyone that. Not since Ma went on trial.”

“You’re very brave for telling me,” Ms. Trelawney (he’d decided he couldn’t call her by her first name, he just couldn’t) assured him, and then added thoughtfully, “I’d imagine that had quite an impact on the way you feel about yourself now.”

“Yeah, I…” He bit his lip. He hadn’t thought they’d get into this so _fast._ “I get scared really easily. When someone is angry with me, even if it’s over something really little, I think…I think…”

“You think they’re going to punish you like she did,” she finished, and he nodded. “And do they?” she asked point-blank.

“No…actually…” He told her about Tina and Queenie, and Newt and Jacob, and how eagerly they had accepted him into their family…and about Percy, and how gentle and kind he was, how he was so willing to do anything to make Credence feel safe. “They’ve _all_ been good to me, so why am I still—like _this?_ ” he finished unhappily. “It’s been years since Tina got me out of there, and I’m _happy_ now, I have a family and Percy and I have school and—and I shouldn’t be afraid any more, so _why—”_

He broke off and curled in on himself, wishing he’d never come at all. Whose bright idea was it, anyway, coming and unburdening himself to a total stranger? Suddenly he badly wanted to be near Percy again; with Percy it was safe to cry, and he knew he was close to tears.

“It’s all right, Credence,” came a soft, neutral voice, and he looked up to see Ms. Trelawney offering him a packet of Kleenex. When he reached out to take the tissues she caught his hand and turned his palm up so the scars were in plain view. “I’m guessing this was the work of your mother. And it’s plain to see that these are not the only scars she’s given you.”

“My back,” he confirmed sadly. “She hit me there, too.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But that’s not what I meant. She left scars on your spirit. Your soul, as you Christians would call it.” She paused, and then added, “So, yes, it’s natural and completely understandable that you experience anxiety and fear. But just because something is natural doesn’t mean that it’s good for you, or that it’s something you just have to accept. There are things I can teach you that will help. But what you get out of this is going to be mostly based on your response and your level of comfort. It isn’t going to be like regular talk therapy.”

“I know. That’s kind of why I chose your place…I’ve been to regular talk therapy before. Didn’t help much,” he admitted.

“What was it about our place that spoke to you, do you think?”

“I don’t know how to…” He bit his lip. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, and she nodded. He told her about the conversation he’d had with Percy after his panic attack over the hoarded food, what Percy had said about _Healing._ “I think that song helps so much because…I don’t know. Because I need to hear someone tell me _it’s okay, you’re safe now,_ even if it’s not real…God, I don’t _know,”_ he burst out, unreasonably frustrated.

“It’s all right,” Ms. Trelawney assured him. “I think I understand.”

“That’s good,” he told her candidly, “because I don’t.”

“You will in time. Now, we don’t have time to get much further into it today, which is typical of intake appointments. So in the time we have left, let’s discuss boundaries. From what you’re telling me, your chief coping mechanism now is essentially a combination of music therapy and guided meditation. Is that as far as you’d like to go?” His face must have radiated his confusion, because she took one look at him and hastened to explain, “I’m talking about hypnotherapy, dear. Are you comfortable with that, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed and told her plainly, “Fair warning, you’re going to hear a lot of that from me. Just assume I don’t know _anything.”_

“That will change with time too,” she assured him. “And it’s all right to not be completely sure of yourself all the time. A bit of doubt is healthy, something I’m certain you weren’t taught in your church.”

“Definitely not.” He thought it over for a second, and then said candidly, “Honestly, at this point if it might stop the panic attacks, you could tell me you want to drop me out the window and I’d probably say we should give it a try.”

“Dropping patients out the window is hardly considered best practice,” she said with a chuckle. “But I understand. And again I say, how far this goes and what you get out of it is going to be up to you. To use the colloquial phrasing: I can give you the LEGOs, Credence, but you’ll have to build the house yourself.”

Credence recognized, rather than felt, that his nerves were beginning to melt away. This was not like his last experience with therapy. It was imprecise and gentle and open-ended. She gave him choices and didn’t shame him for what he chose, and when she said there were no wrong answers he almost believed her.

“I can do that,” he said, and when she gave him another encouraging smile he let himself hope that this could really work.

~

Graves knew it was utterly counterproductive, but he couldn’t stop pacing. No matter how many times he told himself it was _fine,_ Credence was perfectly safe, Graves couldn’t shake the nerves that inevitably came with letting an upset Credence out of his sight. (And he _had_ been upset, anxious at the very least, when he’d left the room. Graves knew that deer-in-headlights look anywhere.)

The receptionist, thankfully, seemed to find him charming. “You know he’s in there undergoing therapy, not having a baby, yes?” she teased Graves after watching him pace for a solid half-hour.

“You don’t know that. Miracles of modern medicine and all,” he snarked back.

She laughed and offered him tea. “I’d suggest coffee, but I think a stimulant is the last thing you need right now. But don’t worry. Sibyl is _great_. A little too head-in-the-clouds for my taste…always talking about souls and the spirit world and the like…but she’s very gentle. She won’t hurt your boy.”

“She’d better not,” Graves muttered fiercely. “If Credence comes out any worse off than when he went in I’ll…” He trailed off as he realized that one, he was threatening the wrong person and two, he had no actual idea _what_ he would do if Credence’s anxiety got any worse. Or, hell, if it even _could_ get worse.

When the office door opened and a flushed, suspiciously bright-eyed Credence emerged, Graves was immediately ready to do battle with whatever specters had been dragged from the graveyard today. Sure enough, the second he saw Graves, Credence practically hurled himself into his arms. “There now…I’ve got you, you’re okay,” Graves murmured, running a soothing hand up and down Credence’s back.

“Can we go somewhere? I’m okay, I just…I need to be alone with you,” Credence whispered.

“Of course, sweetheart. We can do whatever you want.” He gave Credence one last light squeeze and then carefully peeled away. “Let’s go.”

They went out to the car. It was freezing, so Graves started it up before he slid into the backseat and pulled Credence into his arms, so Credence could bury his face in his shoulder. “Need to cry, love?” he asked, unsurprised when Credence nodded into his neck. “Do whatever you need to do. I’ve got you.”

He held Credence through the worst of it (which really wasn’t that bad this time; it was just regular tears _,_ not the body-wracking sobs that he'd endured during the panic attack in the basement, and it ended fairly quickly), and was about to ask if he could do anything else to help when Credence withdrew his face from his neck and explained in a trembling voice, “We talked about Ma, a little bit. And I didn’t think…I didn’t think we would _right away,_ so…”

“So it threw you a little,” Graves finished. “I can see why. I’m sorry. That must’ve been really tough.”

“It was, but…” Credence swallowed hard and briefly looked away. When he looked back his eyes were wet. “I realized in there that unless you count the trial, where I _had_ to talk about it, I’ve never told anyone…until I had to tell her in there, and…” He chewed his lip for a moment and then said in a rush, “I want to tell you what happened. But if you don’t want to hear about it I won’t.”

“You can tell me,” Graves immediately assured him. “You can tell me anything, sweetheart.”

Credence proceeded to hesitantly outline the worst of what his mother had done. Some of it, like the starvation and beatings, Graves had already known; some of it was new, and every bit as breathtakingly awful. But the last straw, Credence told him, was when her own punishments weren’t enough for her anymore, and she’d decided that he would undergo conversion therapy at a camp known for its abusive treatment of its prisoners before he could work for her church.

And then the horror and shock in Graves’ shattered heart was slowly replaced with a warm, glowing pride as he learned how Credence had come to live with Tina and Queenie. How he had ripped the belt from his mother’s hands and struck her right in the face before he fled the house with nothing but the clothes on his back. “My brave boy,” he breathed, holding Credence close to his chest as if to shield him from his own pain. “My sweet Credence. You have no idea how strong you are, do you?”

“I don’t feel very strong most days,” Credence admitted softly. By then he had fully stopped crying and had gone loose and pliant in Graves’ arms, as he always did after expending so much emotional energy. “I just…I wanted you to know. It’s not fair if a total stranger knows all this stuff about me, but I can’t tell the person I love and trust more than anyone else in the world.”

“You don’t owe me anything you don't want to share, love,” Graves assured him. “And you don’t owe it to her either…I hope she didn’t give you that same bullshit the other guy did, about not having a choice if you want to get better.”

“No, no,” Credence hastily assured him. “She’s great. She doesn’t want to do anything to make me feel anxious, because coming here is supposed to help with that, not make it worse. We didn’t do anything except talk, which she said is normal for an intake appointment but it won’t be like that every week. She said we can try going further with music therapy, if that’s something that helps. And she’s going to send me a couple of scripts for guided meditations in case I want to make my own tape. Which I don’t think I will, because I kind of hate the sound of my own voice, but it’s nice that she thought of it.”

“I’ll read the scripts, if you want,” Graves offered impulsively. He felt Credence tense slightly in his arms and heard the almost-silent sharp inhalation, which was Credence-speak for _I desperately want that but can’t possibly ask for it._ “Nope, it’s decided, I’m doing it for you,” he said before Credence could protest.

He didn’t like to play “authoritative boyfriend,” but it seemed that this time it was the right call, because Credence nestled up to him like a kitten and murmured a shy _thank-you_ instead of insisting that he didn’t deserve such a huge favor.

They stayed there like that until the late-afternoon sun gave way to wintery twilight. Then Graves gently shifted Credence upright and said, “We need to go, or we’ll run the car battery down. Want to come and get some dinner with me?”

Credence slid his hand into Graves and squeezed lightly. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Reuben’s, maybe?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

~

It took Credence ten minutes of deep breathing and telling himself _it’ll be okay, you’re going into a club not a war zone_ before he managed to get out of the car. And once he did, he couldn’t look at himself, for fear that the sight of his outfit would make him freeze up again: upon hearing that he was going to a gay club, Queenie had squealed in delight and, when she couldn't find him a shirt that she liked, she took one of her sparkly scarves and fashioned it into a one-shouldered wrap top. Which she paired with the women’s jeans she’d bought him forever ago from H&M. And topped it all off with glittery pink lip gloss and smoky brown eyeliner. In a word: yikes.

Clubs, as he had told Percy months ago, were not his scene. But Lavender, the girl from his clinical group, had texted him the day before and asked if he wanted to celebrate the end of the semester. _Nagini Kim is coming too, she was in your assessment lab. It’ll be her, me, Luna, and Parvati. We thought you might like to come along_ —the, “now that we know you’re queer as a $3 bill” going unsaid.

He’d almost said no. But he’d gotten the text while he was with Percy and to his surprise, his boyfriend had been heavily in favor of saying yes. “You want allies in nursing school, trust me,” he told Credence. And so: gay dance club, on a Sunday night, with four girls he only knew in the most basic sense of the word. Wonderful.

It was not, thankfully, the same gay bar where he’d gotten that terrifying first kiss. He didn’t think he could’ve handled that. This one was smaller and better-lit and reminded him more of the atmosphere of Queenie’s Halloween party, except with 90% more glitter. He had to smile to himself: if Percy ever did want to play out the “prom” fantasy, this would be the perfect place to do it.

Lavender squealed aloud when she saw him. “Oh my God, look at you! Very sexy,” she said happily, and grabbed him by the arm to haul him over to the bistro table that Luna, Parvati, and Nagini had staked out. “Look at him, isn’t he hot?”

Credence winced. He already hated this, he had _not_ signed up to be shown off. He very nearly cried out of gratitude when Nagini, the pretty Asian girl from his health assessment lab, headed her off: “He looks about as nervous as a goat at Jurassic Park, so if you could maybe quit objectifying him that would be super.” He shot her a grateful smile, and she added, “I don’t mean to be rude, but good God, you do _not_ look comfortable, Credence.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “My roommate…well.” He gestured down to himself. “She thinks this looks good. I think I want a real shirt,” he said candidly, and to his surprise the four girls laughed. He shuddered a little, thinking of the scars. Queenie had promised the scarf covered them, but still…

“We’ve already done a round of shots, waiting for you,” Parvati informed him. “Want to catch up?”

“Um. No, I…don’t really drink.” He braced himself for the onslaught. _Aww, come on, just this once? You’re not in AA, are you? One drink won’t kill you, come on…_

“Great!” Lavender said brightly, and Credence started; that was _not_ the reply he’d expected. “Then there’s nothing stopping us from hitting the dance floor!”

Oh. Damn. Before he could protest that he wasn’t exactly down with that either, she’d grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to the dance floor, which was surprisingly crowded for a weeknight. The music was bright and bubbly and fun, and when Credence made it through three songs without someone trying to grind on him he finally began to relax a little. Men did bob around him here and there, trying to sneak in, but he stuck close to the girls and eventually it seemed that his “suitors” got the message.

He quickly realized the appeal of the club for the girls: this was a place where they could feel relatively certain they wouldn’t be groped or face other unwanted attention. What he still couldn’t understand was why he’d been so suddenly and randomly invited. Was he their “in?” Had they just needed someone legitimately gay to come with them in order to have a “right” to be there? He didn’t get it; didn’t girls come to gay clubs all the time? That was a thing, right?

“I don’t get it,” he confided to Nagini at one point when they escaped the dance floor to get a drink. “Why’d you guys bring me along? I mean, I like you just fine but I didn’t think…”

He trailed off, but she finished for him, “That we’re friends? I guess we’re not, but…look, I’ve kind of wanted to talk to you since…God, I don’t know, count how many weeks it’s been since that stupid assessment demo.”

Well, damn. He hadn’t seen that coming either. “Okay, that doesn’t help, like, at all. What, did you see me with my shirt off and think _oh yeah, I want him in my corner?”_

Nagini snorted half her bottled water up her nose and had to take a minute to stop coughing before she told him, “No, I…well. I’m sorry, but I saw how upset you were. And…I don’t know. I thought you needed a friend, but after we were done you tore out of there like your ass was on fire, so I figured you probably wanted to be left alone.”

She wasn’t wrong. If she’d chased him, he probably would have just run faster. “It’s complicated,” he finally told her. “I don’t really…have a lot of friends.”

“I figured. So when Lavender told me about tonight, I said we should ask you.I knew you guys were in the same clinical group, so I thought, why not?” She downed the rest of her bottled water and watched him with sharp eyes. “You know you’re actually pretty cool. It was nice of you to come along. We weren’t trying to make you our mascot or whatever, and I’m sorry if it came off that way.”

“I did kind of wonder.” He looked around the club. “This place is actually pretty nice. Nothing like those scary places where Queenie used to try to get me a date.” He shuddered a little at the memory. “I’m fairly certain no one is going to push drugs on me here, which is a step up. You don’t want to know,” he added in response to Nagini’s appalled face.

“Are you two gonna hide out over here all night?” Parvati demanded, breaking into their conversation. “Ooh, time for another round of shots, you think?”

“I’ll get them this time. Be right back.” Nagini gave Credence one last quick smile and left him alone with the others.

“All right, spill it,” Parvati said when she was gone. “You’re hooking up with Dr. Graves. We all know it. What’s he really like?”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “That’s none of your business,” he sputtered.

“Come on,” she coaxed him, “you’ve gotta tell us _something._ I mean, he’s supposed to be the biggest douchebag at Macusa, but you’re the pretty much most precious cinnamon roll I’ve ever seen, so either the rumors are blown way out of proportion or you’re actually a total badass and can manage him.”

“Or both,” Lavender added with a mischievous smile. “Now, to be fair, Parvati, the man is _fine._ Bet he's packing under that lab coat,” she said, looking pointedly at Credence.

“I’m not talking about this,” Credence protested, thankful he was already flushed from dancing so as to hide his blush.

“We’ll talk, you answer yes or no,” Parvati offered with a laugh. “So I’ll go first: I’m guessing he’s, like, an actual Olympic pro at sex. Right? I mean, the assholes are usually the best in bed, that’s always how it goes.”

“I don’t think he’s an asshole,” Luna interrupted in her dreamy voice. “I think he’s really nice. He helped me with the blood glucometers once at clinical, when my badge stopped working.”

“So what? My sister works with him all the time and she says he’s just about the biggest grump in existence. She’s a nurse anesthetist at Macusa,” Parvati explained to Credence. “And she _hates_ doing surgeries and procedures with him. She says he doesn’t care whose feelings he hurts as long as everything’s done to his satisfaction.”

“Ooh, I bet he’s a total _boss_ in bed,” Lavender said teasingly. “Bet he’s totally the type who gets off on being called _sir.”_

Parvati just about screamed with laughter. “Oh God. No, no. He makes you call him by his title, right?” she managed to get out between uncontrolled giggles. “Oh my God, Credence, _please_ tell me he doesn’t make you call him _Dr. Graves_ in bed. I will _totally_ die.”

Credence silently reflected that if she didn’t stop talking about his boyfriend like he wasn’t a real person, she might _actually_ die because he was going to lose it. “He’s not like that,” he told the girls, and something in his tone seemed to bring them up short, because the laughter immediately died away. “He’s a good person, and I…I really don’t know if I would have survived this semester without him,” he said, and even as the words came out he knew they were true.

It was mean, perhaps, to feel a tingle of satisfaction when he saw that Parvati and Lavender looked mildly uncomfortable. _Good. Let them see how it feels._

Luna broke the awkward silence. “Maybe next time a person says it’s none of your business you should listen to them,” she remarked, in the same tone one might say _this place has good chicken wings, let’s try some._

Nagini chose that moment to return with the shots. She saved Credence’s for last and, before he could ask, she told him in an undertone, “It’s just plain Sprite. I hope that’s okay? I didn’t know what kind of soda you like…”

“It’s perfect,” he said, surprised that she’d found a way to include him.

The girls ended up having another round of drinks before they went back out to the dance floor. He followed along, this time managing to actually dance a little instead of just standing there and awkwardly swaying to the beat. It wasn’t much fun, really, he reflected after the third or fourth song. It was more fun to dance alone with Queenie, screaming along to old records and laughing when Tina caught them in the act.

Nagini eyed him the whole time, until finally she caught him by the arm and asked, “Want to get out of here? I’ll tell them I’m PMSing or something and you said you’d take me home.”

“Please,” he said, and she quickly told the others, got their coats, and got them both outside. “Oh, thank God,” he said aloud when the cold air hit his face.

“Yeah. It’s fun for a while but it gets old fast, doesn’t it?” She gestured vaguely to the apartments on the other side of the nearby Target. “I live over there You don’t actually have to drive me home.”

He looked over at the Target. “Tell you what,” he said, “let me run in there and get a real shirt, and we’ll go get dinner somewhere.”

“Works for me,” she agreed.

A half-hour later found them at the Target food court sharing a giant soft pretzel. He had to bite back a laugh as he recalled that this was one of the “fantasies” Percy had shared with him when they’d…oh. Now he was blushing again, and of course Nagini noticed. “Something you want to tell me?” she said with a knowing little smile. “Good memories, maybe?”

“Kind of, yeah,” he admitted, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto his face. “I was just thinking…my boyfriend, um. He was talking about…oh, never mind. It’s a long story.”

“You can tell me if you want,” Nagini offered. “I promise I won’t give you a hard time…or ask what he’s like in bed,” she added with a scowl.

“Oh, you heard them, huh?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the pretzel. “Yeah. Um. I kind of hated that. They just…they don’t understand. They don’t _know_ him.”

“Of course they don’t. He’s just a curiosity to them,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think they meant any harm. Doesn’t make it right, though.”

“Yeah.” Credence weighed the options for a moment, and then finally made his decision. “I didn’t really…date a lot, growing up. Wasn’t allowed. First time I ever did anything—and I mean _anything,_ I’d never even been kissed before—it happened in a place like that.” He gestured in the direction of the club they’d just come from. “And when I told Percy he said…he said it wasn’t fair, and I should get to do, like…the stuff he got to do, you know, in high school. Going to the prom, cheap dates like bowling and pizza and stuff…and this.” He nodded to the pretzel. “Talked about going to the mall and getting one of these. I know it sounds kind of weird, but it was really sweet.”

He snuck a peek at Nagini, hoping she wouldn’t laugh like he knew the others would have. She didn’t. She nodded thoughtfully and said, after a long pause, “So, they’re wrong.” At his confused expression she clarified, “Parvati and the others. He _does_ have a heart. And it seems like it’s all yours.”

Oh. Well. He could hardly help but blush at that, could he? “I mean. Yeah. I…I really don’t know how I got so lucky, he’s…” He sighed in a way that could only be called dreamy. “He’s just…God, I don’t know. Have you ever been with someone like that, who you just…you meet them and you just _know_ they’re it?”

“Not sure. Thought I have, a few times, but maybe not. Not yet.” She paused, and then asked carefully, “It wasn’t just because you’re shy that you were all…off…during the demo, was it.” In response to his shocked face she sighed and said patiently, “No one enjoyed those demos. Trust me, stripping down for a farce medical exam? Not at the top of anyone’s to-do list. But you legit looked like you were two seconds away from passing out the whole time.”

Credence bit his lip and nodded. No point in hiding it. “Scars,” he explained quietly. “I got hurt when I was a kid and…well. Yeah.”

Nagini nodded slowly. “Yeah…you know, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see anything. I mean. I don’t think anyone did except Neville. Now, with that being said…hmm…” She tapped her fingertips on the table for a good half a minute before she stood up, turned her back to him, and lifted the hem of her shirt just enough for him to see a white patch of obviously-scarred skin. “That's what I didn't want anyone in class to see...it was a bad tattoo,” she explained as she sat back down. And then, with a grim smile, she added, “Of my ex-husband’s name.”

He stared for a second. “You were married? You can’t be any older than I am,” he protested, as if that made any difference.

“Yep, straight out of high school. Abusive douchebag named Skender. Fucker thought he owned me. I showed him, though…I took out his illegal business on my way out. He traded in trafficked animals…note the past tense,” she said with a satisfied, wicked little grin. “He’s been in jail for…five years now, I think.”

“Wow,” Credence said, equal measures of horrified and impressed. “Worst I managed to do was smack my mom in the face before I ran out.” He clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at himself— “I never tell people that,” he blurted out, eyes wide. “God, I can’t believe I just told you that, please forget you heard anything.”

“Consider it forgotten,” she promised, and suddenly reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “But if you ever want me to un-forget it, let me know, okay? I like you,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “You’re easy to talk to. Think maybe we could hang out again? Like this, I mean. No clubs.”

“I’d like that,” he agreed, and she smiled at him, really smiled, and he was a little struck by how pretty she was, and how _tough_ she was. “I like you too,” he told her impulsively, and the 100-watt smile grew even brighter. “I really don’t make friends very easily but…but I’ll be your friend, if you really want to.”

“Of course I do.” She gave his hand one more squeeze and let go. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Now…what do you think they’re going to make us do next semester? They’ve already made us strip, think pole-dancing is in the cards?”

Credence stared at her for a good ten seconds before he burst out laughing. “You know what, I really wouldn’t be surprised…”

~

When he got home that night, he went in through the main door because he didn’t feel like walking down the hill to the basement door and was surprised to see that Queenie and Jacob were still up. “Ooh, you’re back!” Queenie hopped up off the couch, then frowned when she saw he was wearing a real shirt. “You okay, Cree? What happened?”

“Nothing.” He handed her back her scarf. “I don’t think I’m the club type,” he told her candidly. “But it’s okay. I’m glad I went.”

“Oh, good.” She folded him into a warm hug and he let out a deep sigh as he relaxed against her. “You know we love you, right?” she said as she held him off at arm’s length.

“That’s right.” Jacob stood up and came over, resting a gentle hand on Credence’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, kid. No matter what.”

Credence instinctively turned and granted him a hug, too. He really did not, he reflected as Jacob gave him a comforting squeeze, hug his family enough. He needed to fix that. “I love you guys too. And…thank you.” He looked between the two of them. “I’m really lucky to have you guys.”

Queenie reached out and took both his hands in hers. “We’re lucky to have you too, honey. Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

He lay in bed awake for a long time that night, for once not because of anxiety, but because his heart felt too full to sleep. There was so much to look forward to, so much stuff in his life that was _good._ He had a boyfriend, and this very week that boyfriend was going to come and get him for Christmas, and they were going to spend a full nine days just being happy together…he had a family, he had school, he had a _life…_ and now he had friends…

Credence let his eyes fall closed, let himself exhale with a heavy, relieved sigh as his body relaxed into the mattress. _So this,_ he thought drowsily, _must be how it feels to be really happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abuse TW spoilers: Credence finally tries out going to therapy, which naturally includes discussions of his abusive childhood. He tells his therapist his mother used to hit him with his belt. Later, he tells Graves what his mother did to him, because he feels like if a "total stranger" knows, his boyfriend should too. It's mostly a rehash of what we already know about him: he was subjected to starving and beatings as punishments, and was almost sent to conversion therapy before he escaped. Finally, during the club scene, there are a few references to his scars, and he admits to a new friend that he was anxious about taking his shirt off for class because of those scars.
> 
> Negative self-talk/anxiety/self-esteem TW spoilers: While in therapy, Credence admits that he is constantly afraid and always thinks he's about to be punished even though he knows he isn't. He then blurts out that he "shouldn't" be afraid or unhappy, because he has people who love him now and thus in his mind nothing that happened to him should still be able to hurt him. His therapist very kindly sets him straight.
> 
> Past abusive relationship TW spoilers: Nagini is introduced in this chapter and we get a little bit of her backstory. In this 'verse Skender was her abusive husband rather than her boss/master. She mentions he traded in trafficked animals and thought he "owned" her. She used to have a tattoo of his name, which scarred over when she had it removed. Nothing graphic, very generic narrative descriptions, and it ends on a happy note as she was able to 1) escape from him and 2) get him arrested and get his business closed down on the way out.
> 
> Teasing/bullying (kind of?) TW spoilers: Credence goes to a nightclub with some girls from his nursing program. While he gets along well with two of them, the other two tease him about dating Graves and flippantly ask Credence about his sex life, and keep going even after he tries to shut them down. They're not nice about Graves at all, calling him an "asshole" based on his rep at Macusa, saying he gets off on power, making remarks about the size of his dick, and implying Credence is good at "handling" him. They only shut up when Credence finally stands up for Graves and tells them he "wouldn't have survived the semester" without him. (I don't know exactly if this NEEDS to be a TW, to be fair. Just putting it out there just in case.)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi frens :) Heads-up that I start my actual nursing classes tomorrow (LAST SEMESTER, WOOOO!) so the updates may come a little slower. Still love you guys, I'm just going to be swamped. :P
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos, hits, and comments. Every time I see that little notification in my inbox I do a little happy dance. :)
> 
> And I'll put my "nursing notes" at the beginning this time and quickly clarify: CNO = chief nursing officer (the boss' boss' boss if you're a nurse), CMO = chief medical officer (same, except for doctors).
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Right at the beginning of the chapter, a trauma survivor briefly comes face-to-face with the person who caused the trauma. (They do not interact, and it's over very quickly.)  
> -Brief discussion of traumatic/abusive childhood (non-explicit)  
> -Few mentions of self-neglect/lack of self-care  
> See end of chapter notes for spoilers/explanations as always :)

Credence was standing at the nurses’ station across from Percy’s office, waiting for Percy to be done with work so they could start their Christmas break together, when the kind informatician who had visited his clinicals the previous weekend came and joined him, also holding two take-out coffee cups. “Well, if it isn’t my new friend from Ilvermorny,” he said with a warm smile. “Credence, yes?”

“Yes, that’s right, sir. It’s good to see you again.” Credence shyly returned the smile, mildly shocked that the _chief nursing informatics officer_ was interested in talking to _him._ “What are you doing down here? I thought you worked upstairs.”

“Oh, I do. I’m just waiting for someone. My husband is here until eight tonight. I thought I’d surprise him.” Mr. Grindelwald held up the two coffees.

“Me too. Oh! I mean—” Credence blushed furiously at the implication of what he’d just said. “I’m here for my boyfriend, I mean. We aren’t married yet. _Oh!”_ He looked down, his face hot, wishing the floor would swallow him up.

“Oh, I remember those days,” Mr. Grindelwald said with a fond little chuckle. “It is so… _invigorating_ , is it not, that early period of a courtship? Oh, dear, I can see you’re embarrassed. Don’t be. To be in love is a natural part of life.” He waited for Credence to smile again before he said encouragingly, “That’s better. Now, would you perhaps tell me the name of your beloved?”

Before Credence could reply, Percy’s voice broke through the closed office door. _“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THESE PEOPLE GO THROUGH!_ At this point you’re just playing God on purpose, you sick bastard!”

Credence winced, and Mr. Grindelwald shot him a curious look. “Ah, so you belong to Dr. Graves,” he said softly. “Well. I suppose we’ll both be in the business of smoothing our partners’ ruffled feathers today, won’t we?”

The door to the office flew open. “Yeah, well, I don’t care what your husband says. And I do _not_ answer to you, we _both_ answer to the CNO and the CMO,” Percy angrily told the handsome, lab-coated man who was right behind him. “Now, when you’re ready to start talking reason, and stop fucking _baiting_ me, feel free, but until then you can take your false positivity and shove—”

He broke off, the color draining from his face, as he saw Credence waiting for him. “Credence,” Percy breathed, his eyes flicking nervously between him, Mr. Grindelwald, and the stranger. “Credence, what…what are you doing here?”

Wordlessly Credence held up the coffee cups. Percy did not look happy to see him, and that was such a foreign feeling that it made Credence too afraid to remind him of their plans. Meanwhile Mr. Grindelwald was affectionately greeting the man who’d come out of Percy’s office, and Percy kept looking over at the pair of them, very obviously upset at the sight. 

But then it passed, and Percy gave him a smile that Credence knew to be forced. “Come on, then. Let’s get going.” He came over and took one of the coffees, and seized the handle of Credence’s rolling suitcase before Credence could stop him. “Here, I’ll carry this, love. Mmm, thank you for the coffee. Just what I needed.”

“Is everything okay?” Credence asked once they were out of earshot of the other couple. “I’ve never heard you yell like that…”

“You’ve never seen me at work,” Percy admitted with a heavy sigh. “I mean, you’ve seen me here, I know you have, but it’s different when—no, you know what, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about this right now. It’s been a long day and I just want to forget…”

“Of course. Yeah.” Credence waited until they were alone on the elevator to lean in and give him a kiss. “We’re going straight to your house, right?”

“We are,” Percy confirmed, and gave his hand a squeeze. “And I’m so sorry that I kept you waiting that long. You must be starving. Don’t worry, Morgan will have a feast waiting for us. My mum and my sister _love_ to cook. You’ll gain a few pounds while you stay with us, trust me, they’ll make sure of that…”

He didn’t say anything else about the man he’d been shouting at, or how he’d looked so distressed when Credence caught him in a fight with his boss. But Credence had lived with Tina long enough to know what work stress looked like, and Percy was absolutely radiating it in waves. It wasn’t Credence’s job to fix that, he knew it wasn’t…but he loved Percy and wanted him to be healthy and happy, so he resolved as they walked to the car to make sure that he took very good care of his boyfriend while he had the chance.

~

If Credence was impressed by Percy’s apartment, he was absolutely blown away by the Graves family home. It was beautiful and well-kept, and so _big_. “You never told me your family was…” He gestured to the giant house, the _stupidly rich_ going unsaid.

“Does it matter?” Percy asked, trying (and failing) to hide a smile.

“I mean…” Credence clung to his arm as they went up to the door. “I just didn’t see it coming, okay? Your brother in law works in a _restaurant.”_

“Yes, and my sister’s a lawyer,” Percy replied, openly chuckling now…until he saw the look on Credence’s face. “Please tell me you don’t actually think my family is not going to like you because of money. I need to hear you say that.” Credence looked away. Percy understood, and made Credence look him in the eyes. “Listen to me, love…they haven’t seen me bring someone home in literally _years_. Trust me, Credence, they are going to be absolutely _thrilled_ to meet you.”

As if on cue the door opened, and Credence’s heart nearly stopped when he saw who had opened it: Percy looked _so much_ like his mother. But just as he had with Reuben, Percy took control of the situation. “Mum, this is my boyfriend, Credence.” He slipped a protective arm around Credence as he added, “Credence, this is my mum, Tierney, and she has absolutely been dying to meet you.”

Credence tried not to flinch when Mrs. Graves reached out to him for a hug, and failed. She noticed and promptly took a step back. “There’s no need to look so frightened, dear,” she told him gently. “I’m just glad to see my boy’s found someone he cares about that much.”

Credence nodded, managed a smile, and silently held out his arms indicating that he was open to that hug now. She wasted no time in pulling him into a warm, motherly embrace that very nearly brought him to tears. “Sorry,” he murmured when he pulled away, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes before she saw.

But of course she did. “You’ve had a hard time of it, haven’t you,” she observed sadly. “But don’t you worry, now…you’ll be safe here with us.”

Credence startled a little at how easily she picked up on the cues he was trying to hide. “I’m all right, really,” he tried to assure her.

“Don’t you try that with me, now,” she scolded him gently as she ushered him and Percy inside. “I can see it a mile off. Percival here, you’ve just about got to force him to tell you when he needs a bit of love. Don’t you tell me. We keep a kind household here, Credence. You need something, you speak up now, you understand?”

He tried not to tear up again. He almost succeeded. “Understood, ma’am.”

“Tierney,” she corrected him with a smile. She then led them straight to the kitchen, where a dark-haired woman who had Percy’s brown eyes was stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely wonderful. “Morgan, my girl,” she said brightly, “look who’s here!”

Morgan looked up and her face immediately split into a smile. “Get your ass over here,” she said happily, and met Percy halfway for a hug that saw her nearly lifted off her feet. “About time you got out of the damned hospital! Little Brigid’s just about forgot what you look like.”

“Oh, now. You know I can’t just ditch work whenever I feel like it.” Percy finally let go of her, only to reach for Credence and gently tug him forward. “Morgan, this is Credence, my boyfr—”

Her eyes went big and she swept Credence into a massive hug before Percy had even finished introducing him. “Finally!” she shouted, inches from his ear. “Oh, none of us thought this day would come, I tell you!” She held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. “Oh, Seamus was right, you’re the prettiest one he’s ever had…Percival, where the hell have you been hiding him?”

“He’s had classes, Morgy,” Percy told her patiently.

She scowled. “Oh, lord above. Don’t be like this one,” she warned Credence. “He thinks the sun won’t rise or set if he’s not there to supervise it.”

“Love you too, sister dear,” Percy said with a roll of his eyes. To Credence he added, “This is my little sister, Morgan, and don’t take anything she says to heart, she lives to take the piss out of me.”

“As is my right,” she said with a grin.

Percy rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Seamus came in from outside. “There they are!” he said, coming forward to bestow hearty hugs on both of them. He made a little show of inspecting Credence’s left hand. “What, you haven’t asked, Graves? Ah, Ruben’s going to be so disappointed, he’s counting on you two tying the knot any day now.”

“Shame, then, that he’s going to have to wait until Credence isn’t in a full-time and very intense nursing program,” Percy said dryly, and then his face turned a shade of red Credence had never witnessed before as the meaning of what he’d just said hit everyone in the kitchen.

Morgan, to her credit, tried to head things off at the pass. “Here,” she said, hastily ladling the delicious-smelling stuff on the stove into a cup and shoving it gracelessly into her husband’s hands. “Have some mulled wine, go into the living room. I’ll bring in some crackers in a moment and—”

Seamus let out a guffaw so loud it nearly rattled the pictures on the walls. “He’ll be right pleased to hear that,” he teased Percy. “Credence, mate, when’s your graduation? I’ll have to make sure the family knows when they can expect this grumpy old bachelor to—”

“I will pay you to stop talking,” Percy said through gritted teeth.

 _“I’ll_ make you sleep on the couch if you don’t stop talking,” Morgan warned her husband with a scowl.

Mrs. Graves chose that moment to gently usher Credence and Percy back into the hall. “Percival, why don’t you show him where he’ll be sleeping? By the time you two get settled dinner should be ready. As for you,” she added to Credence, “would you like something hot to drink? We’ve got hot chocolate for the little ones, but if you’d prefer coffee or tea we can get that for you.”

Credence looked from Percy to Mrs. Graves in surprise before he finally said, “I’d love hot chocolate, actually. Thanks.”

“I’ll tell Morgan,” she said warmly, reaching out to give his hand a little squeeze. “Now, from what I was told I thought you’d prefer to stay close to Percival than anywhere else, but if you need privacy we do have a little guest suite upstairs—”

“Mum, be easy,” Percy broke in. “You’re going to overwhelm him.” He had Credence follow him upstairs, hauling both of their luggage despite Credence’s efforts to help, and to Credence’s immense delight he led them into what was immediately identifiable as his childhood bedroom.

Young Percy, it seemed, had loved stuffed animals, because he had a three-tier garden shelf full of them. That was the first thing Credence noticed, followed by the massive _Who Framed Roger Rabbit_ poster over the bed…which was covered with a very soft blue polka-dot bedspread. “When did you move out again?” he asked, and then winced as he realized how rudely he’d phrased the question.

Luckily Percy took it in stride. “When I was about seven or eight, by the looks of it, yeah?” he said with a laugh. “Actually, I just never bothered to redecorate. And, yes, if it will really make you that happy to know, I did sleep with a teddy bear right up to when I left for college.”

Oh. _Oh,_ now Credence understood, and for a moment there was a bitter ache inside him that he fervently tried to ignore. Percy’s childhood had been such a stark contrast to his, safe and warm and so inviting Percy hadn’t wanted to leave it behind. He hated it; he didn’t _want_ to be jealous, he didn’t _want_ to be annoyed that his boyfriend had gotten all the things that Credence had so desperately craved growing up. Happiness. Security. Comfort and reassurance…

“Hey.” He felt a hand card through his hair, and looked up to see Percy’s concerned eyes on his face. “You with me?” he asked carefully.

Credence nodded slowly and reached out to pull Percy into his arms. Percy tensed a moment, surprised, and then relaxed into the embrace, his head dropping automatically into the curve of Credence’s neck. He sighed in pleasure when Credence reached up to stroke a hand up and down his spine, and the warm breath on his neck set a tendril of something like excitement unfurling in Credence’s stomach. “I love you so much,” he whispered into Percy’s hair.

“Mmm. Not that I’m complaining…I love you too, but…” Percy pulled away to look into Credence’s eyes. “What just happened, sweetheart? Are we okay?”

Credence knew well enough that _are we okay_ meant _are you okay and if not how can I fix it._ This time, however, he wasn’t sure he had the words for what he felt. “I just…I’m sad,” he tried to explain, “because I feel like…oh, I don’t even know. What you said the other day, when you gave me the unicorn…there’s so much I’ve _missed.”_

“Oh, love…” Percy reached up and gently cupped Credence’s face in his hands. “I know you’ve had a rough go of it,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion, “and God, you don’t know how I wish I could take all of that pain away. But as I can’t do that, what I’d like to do instead, if it’s all right, is try and make some of it up to you. Let you have things like Christmases and birthdays, and whatever else _she_ took away from you.”

“I don’t know if I…if I _can…_ Percy, everything I wanted when I was a kid, everything I thought I might like, I can’t…I’m too old for it now, I—”

“Sh-h-h.” Percy led Credence to the bed and sat down, where he gently wrapped one arm around Credence’s waist, took his hand and laced their fingers together. “Listen, sweetheart…I will take you to the mall and get you one of those cheesy Santa photos if that’s what it takes to make you happy, you understand me? You can have anything you want. Name it and it’s yours.”

Credence let himself lean into Percy’s warmth, closing his eyes as he felt a gentle hand stroking up and down his side. “Mmm…that feels nice.”

“Good. I like making you feel nice. And I like making you happy. So I want you to promise me that if there is _anything_ I can do to make that happen while you’re here, you’ll let me do it. Okay?”

“Okay. I promise,” Credence agreed,and snuggled up close so Percy could hold him until they had to go back downstairs for dinner.

Instead of taking him back to the kitchen with the rest of the family, Percy tugged Credence into the dining room. “C’mon, help me set the table. We might as well be useful, right?”

Reuben wandered in as they were setting out the dishes. “Good to see you again,” he told Credence with a warm smile. Then he laid eyes on Percy and promptly frowned. “And what happened to you, or dare I ask? You look like someone clubbed you over the head and left you out overnight.”

“Long day,” Percy said shortly. “And one I’d just as soon forget, if it’s all the same to you.”

“You promised you’d rest more often,” Reuben reminded him. “That you’d get away from that desk a few days a week. This,” he gestured to Percy, whom Credence couldn’t help but notice _did_ look tired, “does not look like someone who’s been resting.”

Morgan chose that moment to pop up in the doorway. “Reuben, give us a hand, would you? Seamus is about two hops away from blowing up the oven.”

Reuben swore and promptly retreated to the kitchen. Morgan shot Percy a highly conspicuous wink before she also disappeared. Percy rolled his eyes at them and shook his head. “Stickin’ their noses where they don’t belong,” he complained under his breath.

Credence couldn’t help but smile. “Your accent gets stronger when you’re mad,” he told Percy, whose indignant glower was promptly replaced with a look of surprise. “I like it. The accent, that is. The scowl I could do without.”

Percy stared at him for a moment, and then let out an amazed laugh. “Oh, you _are_ full of surprises, aren’t you,” he said, and promptly swept Credence into his arms and dipped him back like they were in a romantic movie. “Ah, me fella likes this, does he?” he asked, deliberately exaggerating his accent. “Hearin’ me talk like we’re livin’ in her green hills instead of the States?”

Credence let out a tiny squeak as he was swept off his feet, clinging to Percy and giggling like a child. “Oh my God what are you d—” He was cut off with a passionate kiss. “ _Percy!_ Someone could walk in any minute!” he protested when the kiss was over.

Percy still held him halfway dipped back. “Let them see,” he said carelessly. His eyes combed over Credence’s face, down his body, with an almost hungry look. “Mary and Joseph, love, but aren’t you beautiful now,” he murmured, his accent still exaggerated, but his voice much softer. He gently set Credence back on his feet, but kept an arm around his waist.

“I love you,” Credence said, because all he could think about was how deeply he adored the man standing before him. His heart was skipping frantically for reasons he couldn’t have named, and when Percy’s mouth sealed itself over his moments later every rational thought flew out of his mind.

When they broke apart again Percy held him close and kept their foreheads pressed together. “I love you so much, sweetheart,” he said tenderly, his voice back to normal.

“I love you too,” Credence said before he was soundly, thoroughly kissed again, wondering in the back of his mind if this was really his life and if he prayed hard enough it would be like this forever.

~

Credence was settled on a couch that was even more squashy and comfortable than his favorite love seat, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in his hands and Percy’s arm heavy and protective around his shoulders. He was so full he felt sleepy, having just eaten one of the biggest meals of his life (and he lived with Queenie and Jacob, so that was saying something). Percy had not been kidding when he’d said his mother and sister would have a feast waiting for them.

On his other side was Brigid, Morgan’s four-year-old daughter, who had sort of imprinted on Credence when she’d seen him. The first thing she’d done was climb up on a chair so she could see him face-to-face and then very solemnly ask him, “Are you a Disney prince?”

“I’m afraid not,” he’d told her with a smile. “I’m just a student nurse.”

Instead of being disappointed, she’d looked thrilled. “A nurse? Like Uncle Percy? Mama says nurses are superheroes, so that’s even _better_ than a Disney prince,” she’d decided, and promptly hopped off the chair into his arms; he’d just barely noticed what she was doing in time to catch her. Seamus had found the whole thing utterly hilarious.

Later, while they were eating dinner, she’d wormed her way into his lap and asked, “Is your real name Credence?” When he confirmed it was, she informed him, “Grampa Reuben says you’re gonna marry my Uncle Percy.”

He’d almost swallowed his tongue. “I don’t know about that,” he told her, trying to keep a straight face, “but I do like him very much.” And then, impulsively, “Is that all right with you?”

She’d stopped to think about it before she answered gravely, “Yeah, I think so. You seem really nice.”

He hadn’t been able to look at Percy without blushing for a while after that. But when he finally did, he saw the fond way Percy looked at him, with Brigid all happily snuggled up in his lap, and he didn’t quite know what that look meant but he knew he liked it.

So now here they were, all in the living room together, watching a movie that he would “absolutely _love,”_ according to Percy, called _The Santa Clause._ “Don’t think I didn’t notice your face when Newt and Tina were making fun of Santa Claus,” he’d whispered in Credence’s ear as Morgan put in the DVD.

He looked around the room. Morgan and Seamus were on the other end of the sectional, with their son James snuggled up under Seamus’ arm. Reuben had taken the other couch, with Mrs. Graves (“Will you _please_ call me Tierney, dear?”) on the other end. Tonight it was just them, and Credence was thankful for that; he didn’t think he could handle meeting _all_ of Percy’s extended family after such a long day.

But for now he felt happy and peaceful, with his head resting on Percy’s shoulder, his belly full after a deliciously heavy meal, surrounded by warmth and comfort and…family. He turned his face into Percy’s shoulder, suddenly feeling a little needy. “Hold me,” he whispered, and Percy did, stroking up and down his arm with pressure that was just firm enough to be grounding and utterly soothing.

The movie was incredibly funny at first, and then slowly morphed into a story that was both bittersweet and wonderfully heartwarming. When it looked like Scott was going to lose his right to see Charlie, Credence was deeply relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one getting teary-eyed. But then he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see little Brigid looking up at him with her dark, serious eyes. “Don’t be sad. It all turns out okay,” she promised him.

He bit back the urge to cry even more. “Thanks. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” was all he said.

The kids were asleep by the end of the movie, and really, Credence was headed that way himself. He was leaning up against Percy by then, head pillowed on his shoulder. His mind was all soft around the edges and he heard Seamus leave to put the kids to bed, heard Tierney and Morgan say they were going to bed too, but he didn’t really register any of it. Percy just had this kind of effect on him: no matter what, as long as he was in Percy’s arms, Credence knew he was safe.

“Oh, isn’t that just the sweetest thing you’d ever seen,” Credence heard Reuben chuckle. He realized how it must have looked, with him all curled up against Percy’s side with his eyes closed…he should’ve let them know he was awake and he knew it, but he felt so good he didn’t want to move.

“Yeah, well. Like I said, we had something of a long day.” Percy reached up and carded his fingers through Credence’s hair. “God, I need a drink.”

“Well why didn’t you say so? Here, you just stay there, I’ll go get you one.”

“No, I can’t,” Percy said quickly. “Not in front of him. I promised…never mind.” Credence’s heart fluttered a little at that. Percy thought he was asleep and _still_ took his promise seriously.

“You quit drinking for him, really?” Reuben asked, surprised.

“I just don’t drink in front of him. He doesn’t like to be around drunk people and I…you know, he’s so _good_ , I just…I want him to feel safe with me.”

“Well, how about that,” Reuben chuckled quietly. Then he said, “You do know he can probably hear us, don’t you?”

“No. I know what he’s like…trust me, he’s never this relaxed when he’s awake.” Percy let out what could only be described as a dreamy sigh. “You know what? I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone. I know it’s trite to say so, but…

“Not if it’s what you feel,” Reuben assured him quietly. “Not if you really love the boy. Do you?”

“More than anything…it’s only been a couple of months but it’s already gotten to the point where I can’t imagine my life without him.”

Reuben was quiet for a moment, and then: “And so if he left, it’d just about kill you?”

Percy sighed heavily, and the hand in Credence’s hair quivered the slightest bit as he said softly, “God help me, it would. But I’d let him go, if he needed to. I love him that much.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t leave you, anyone could see that. The way he looks at you…I think he’d rather die than break your heart.” Credence heard the couch creak as Reuben stood up. “You really do look knackered, you know. If you won’t listen to me, Percival, at least listen to your boy. He’ll take care of you, if you let him.”

Percy irritably brushed this off, as Credence expected. But when Reuben had gone and they were alone, he felt Percy shift them so that Credence’s head rested comfortably on a pillow in his lap. “There, that’s got to feel better, yeah? Oh, no—” Credence dragged his eyes open, just in time to see Percy’s smile turn to a look of distress. “I didn’t mean to wake you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” Credence stretched a little and admitted, “I heard you…unless I dreamed it…”

Percy blushed something awful and quickly turned his face away. “How much did you hear?”

“What he said before he left…” Credence reached up and brushed his cool fingers over Percy’s flaming cheek. “He’s right, you know. You look tired. And sad. I noticed when we were at Macusa earlier…”

He sat up, watching Percy the entire time, and carefully arranged himself in Percy’s lap. When he was settled, Percy finally said, “It’s nothing you can fix, love. I wish it were. But unless you can make a very arrogant, and also unfortunately very smart, doctor see reason you can’t rescue me this time.”

“I don’t want to _rescue you,”_ Credence insisted. “I just want you to talk to me. You’re always there for me, Percy…I just want to help you too, you know?”

“Help me, if you will, by letting me forget.” Percy paused, and then added with a smile, “Now, tell me about those girls you went out with. Did you have fun?”

Credence recognized a subject change—and a brick wall—when he saw it. “Not really. Not at first,” he said candidly. “Nagini is pretty cool. I think you’d like her, too. But I didn’t really like the club. I might like if you went with me, though. You know how you told me you wanted to take me somewhere to make up for missing my prom? This place might work.”

“Yeah? I like that,” Percy said with a mischievous little grin. “Tell you what…” He reached for his phone on the end table. “Let’s practice. Slow dance first, of course.” He pulled up YouTube on his phone and picked a slow, melodic Bruce Springsteen song that Credence knew very well. 

Credence promptly got off Percy’s lap and pulled him to his feet. “May I have this dance?” he asked, smiling, and didn’t wait for an answer before tugging Percy in close and draping his arms around his waist.

“Ooh, forward. I like it.” Percy laced his fingers behind Credence’s neck and pulled him in close so that their foreheads were pressed together. “Now, it’s hardly the prom, but it’s nice, yeah? No need to leave room for the holy spirit when you’re with me,” he added with a mischievous smile.

“It’s perfect.” Credence meant it, too; he loved having Percy so close, loved the warm weight of Percy in his arms and the feeling of Percy’s steady heartbeat against his chest. It didn’t hurt, either, that as always Percy smelled so good, and his skin was so soft, and he was so _warm._ Warm, and strong, and… “Mine,” Credence whispered, the word slipping out without his consent, his breath mere centimeters away from Percy’s lips.

Before he had time to even feel the encroaching embarrassment and horror at what he’d just done, Percy absolutely _melted,_ a soft sigh escaping his lips as he pressed his face into Credence’s neck. “All yours, sweetheart,” he agreed, his hands slipping down to Credence’s shoulders and squeezing tightly. “Yours for as long as you want me.”

 _I’ll want you forever,_ Credence thought, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say.

The moment stretched on, quiet and easy and perfect. Credence thought he couldn’t get any happier, really, until he heard Percy singing softly into his ear, _“Come on now, try and understand…the way I feel under your command…take me now, as the sun descends…they can’t touch you now, they can’t touch you now, they can’t touch you now…”_

“I don't think I've heard you sing before,” Credence said carefully, half-afraid he’d scare Percy into stopping.

“I think you’re the first person who’s wanted to hear it,” Percy admitted with a rueful little laugh. “Used to sing while I did my chores…I’m sure the whole family was ready to chip in to buy a muzzle for me by the time I left for college.”

“I don’t think you sound bad.”

“That’s only because you’re in love with me,” Percy teased him. “If you weren’t you’d be sending a cease and desist order just like everyone else.”

“No, I have much better ways to shut you up than that,” Credence teased right back. “Care for a demonstration?”

“Oh, yes please,” Percy said with a knowing grin…which turned into a sigh, and then a full-on moan, when Credence’s mouth descended onto his and his hands slipped under Percy’s shirt.

They stood there for a long time locked in each other’s arms, trading soft, sweet kisses that left them both breathless, with Credence stroking and exploring the soft skin under Percy’s shirt and Percy’s hands delightfully tangled in Credence’s hair. Every now and then he’d _tug_ , ever so gently, and make Credence moan helplessly into his mouth. Credence would get even by lightly dragging his nails across Percy’s skin and making him twitch and sigh with pleasure. They stayed there, teasing one another like that, until the song had long since ended and they were both so turned on it almost _hurt._

Percy broke the spell first, pulling back just far enough for Credence to see the unmistakable longing in his eyes. “Will you please take me to bed, sweetheart?” 

There was no way Credence could say no when Percy was looking at him like that. So upstairs they went, holding hands the whole way. It felt deliciously sinful, the idea of making love to Percy in his childhood bedroom…sinful, and absolutely perfect. Credence shivered with delight as the door closed behind them with a final, very promising _click._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trauma trigger TW spoilers: While Credence is waiting for Graves to be ready to leave for their Christmas break together, Grindelwald chats him up at the nurses' station. Graves comes out of his office mid-argument with Dr. Dumbledore and sees Grindelwald there, and briefly freezes. He focuses on Credence and asks what he's doing there, and is described as being "obviously upset" at the sight of Grindelwald and Dumbledore at the nurses' station. Credence mistakes his reaction for work-related stress (since Graves was just having a fight with Dumbledore) and Graves ultimately tries to brush it all off. No mentions of the incident that caused the trauma, and Graves/Grindelwald do not interact.
> 
> Abusive childhood TW spoilers: Alone together in Graves' childhood bedroom, Credence is suddenly hit by how much he missed out on as a child and clings to Graves for comfort. They talk a little and he admits that he feels like he's "too old" to do the fun things that he missed out on as a kid. This ultimately becomes a fluff scene as Graves comforts him and promises that he'll do as much as he can to give Credence back some of what he's lost.
> 
> Self-neglect TW spoilers: Several people (including Credence) point out to Graves that he looks ridiculously exhausted and needs to take time off and rest. The implication is that something other than just his usual workaholic behavior is causing this. Graves repeatedly blows it off, changes the subject, and at one point gets outright irritated that people keep badgering him about his health. The other thread of this is that he repeatedly blows off his own needs in order to take care of someone else (most noticeable is when he admits to Reuben that he's had a long day and wants to relax with a drink, but can't because he promised not to drink in front of Credence, who being innocent enough for the implications to go over his head thinks it's romantic).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the immortal words of Aaron Burr, sir... *clears throat* Okay, so we're doing this.
> 
> I was going to just rate this chapter explicit and leave the overall rating alone, but then I started the chapter ahead of this too and...yeah. Yeah, this is officially an E-story now. I have no idea how this happened, y'all. It was supposed to be this super-fuzzy romantic slow-burn and has now evolved into...well. Look at the tags. *shifty eyes*
> 
> I promise the porn will NOT take over this story (nor will it get as kinky as Chaos in the Air, which is ALSO rapidly getting away from me lol) but...there is going to be more sex. You're welcome/I'm sorry, depending on how your tastes run. ;)
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -ALL of the sex. Really, seriously, this chapter is 100% Sexual Content, so if that is not a thing you want to see, give this one a miss.  
> -Other than that...none! ^_^ This is pure smutty fluff. With that in mind, of course, it *is* the same two characters with all their own insecurities/tragedies coloring their current interactions...but seriously, I tried to keep this chapter as ouchy-free as humanly possible.

Alone in Percy’s bedroom, Credence’s bravado nearly failed him. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited while Percy went to the bathroom, then barely looked his lover in the eyes as he went to take his turn. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous; it wasn’t like they hadn’t done anything before. He’d seen Percy naked, he’d touched him, made him come. _But you haven’t done any of that in his family home where someone could hear you,_ he thought as he stared helplessly into the mirror. _And you know, you_ know, _that’s not all he’s going to ask you for tonight. You know it._

He tied his hair back and splashed cold water on his face, hoping it might calm him down. Apparently, that only worked in movies, he thought wryly as he patted himself dry. He looked over to the high window, a little three-pane thing that he might just be able to squeeze out of, if he tried…

 _Stop it,_ he scolded himself. _It’s Percy, you know he’s safe, you know he loves you. He won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, and he definitely won’t hurt you._

_You love him. Go out there and show him how much. That’s all he wants._

He took a deep breath and went back into the bedroom. Percy had never changed out of his fancy suit after work, so now he’d set to work taking off all four thousand of the layers. Already he’d stripped out of his suit jacket and waistcoat, and was now loosening his tie. “Stop,” Credence said before he could think about it, and when Percy turned to face him, eyes filled with concern, he quickly explained, “I…I wanted to do that.”

“Oh.” Percy let out a relieved little laugh. “I thought you’d changed your mind.”

And just like that, the nerves melted into nothing and Credence stepped forward, pulling Percy into his arms and kissing him with renewed confidence, immensely pleased when Percy just about dissolved into his arms. “I want you,” he whispered against Percy’s lips when the kiss eventually ended.

“You can have me, sweetheart.” Percy reached up and snapped loose Credence’s hair tie, running his hands through Credence’s long hair as if he’d been waiting to do it all his life. He leaned in and pressed his face into Credence’s neck, breathing in his scent deeply. “God, you’re so fucking incredible.”

“Right back at you.” Credence pulled away, only to busy himself undoing the buttons of Percy’s shirt, pulling the tie loose and hurling it to the floor. “This is in the way,” he said impatiently. “You’re hot as hell in your suits and I think you know it, but could you maybe wear a _few_ less layers next time?”

“Sorry, love,” Percy laughed, reaching down and untucking the offending shirt. 

Credence pulled it off over his head without undoing the buttons, as well as the undershirt beneath it, and then promptly lost himself in the expanse of newly-exposed soft skin and firm muscle. “You’re so handsome,” he told Percy dreamily, leaning down to kiss his pecs…and tease an already-firm nipple with his tongue.

 _“Fuck!_ Ahh…Credence…” Percy lovingly ran his fingers through Credence’s hair, gathered a handful and gently tugged him back up to drag him in for a kiss. “Can I—” His free hand played with the hem of Credence’s sweater.

_“Please.”_

Quickly whatever was left on, came off. “Bed,” Percy managed between increasingly desperate kisses. “Before I fall over.”

Credence expected that Percy would let him take the lead, as always. Instead, he got a lovely surprise when Percy slowly, gently lowered him back and leaned over him. “Can I tease you a little, sweetheart?” Percy whispered, lips and breath raising goosebumps on Credence’s sensitive skin. “I love seeing you so turned on for me. I just want to make you feel good. Please?”

“Yeah. God, yeah, do whatever you w— _ooh,”_ Credence sighed as Percy’s tongue made its way up his neck. “Especially if you want to do more of _that.”_

Percy muffled his laugh against Credence’s skin. “Of course, my love. Now, just relax. Let me spoil you a bit, yeah?” 

He left a trail of feather-light kisses down Credence’s neck and stopped to explore base of his throat, delicately tracing the dip with his tongue. Credence couldn’t help but squirm as he felt the wet warmth dragging across his skin. His heart skipped. He let out a soft _oh_ as Percy moved along, nibbling and tasting his skin, exploring the hollows beneath his collarbones. Every lick of Percy’s tongue, every press of his lips, every barely-there scrape of his teeth…it was so good, _so good,_ Credence could feel his heart picking up speed, could feel the blood rushing downwards to his… _oh…_

“Don’t stop,” he moaned when Percy’s wonderful mouth pulled away from his skin. “Please, it feels so good…”

“Sh-h-h. Don’t worry, love, I’m not done.” Percy reached out and gently traced a line down Credence’s neck with his fingertips, making Credence squirm again. “I’d like to bite you here,” he said softly. “Or suck, if you prefer that. I want to leave a mark. Is that all right?”

Credence shivered a little. He’d always hated his scars, those marks of hatred and pain left on his skin for all to see…but the thought of being marked by love instead entranced him. “Yes, God yes, I’d love that. But can you—never mind.” He knew how important consent was to Percy, he couldn’t ask him for _that…_

“Tell me,” Percy coaxed, still tracing the line of Credence’s neck with a light, teasing touch. “Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll do it if I can.”

“Don’t—um. Don’t ask first next time?” Credence winced at the look of surprise on Percy’s face and quickly explained, “It’s just I like the idea of it so much, I want you to do it because you want to, because you can’t…because you _have_ to…I’m sorry, I don’t know how to—”

But Percy had already caught on. “You like the thought of me getting carried away, marking you up because I just can’t stop tasting you, is that it?” he asked, his fingertips still caressing the sensitive skin of Credence’s neck, and Credence let out a strangled moan in reply. “Oh, you sweet thing,” Percy breathed, sounding almost as turned on as Credence felt. “Yes, God yes, if that’s really what you want…”

“It is. And…‘baby?’” That was new. And he had to admit, he kind of liked it.

“Oh…right. Yeah. I’m sorry.” Percy looked a little embarrassed. “It just kind of slipped out.”

“It’s okay.” Credence reached up and carefully cupped his fingers around Percy’s flushed cheek. “You can call me that if you want. I like it.”

“Mmm. Well. All right then…” Percy mapped the line of Credence’s throat with his tongue again, made a damp trail across his collarbones and licked up the sweat pooling in the hollows there. With one hand he reached down and gently tweaked Credence’s nipple, sending a little jolt of pleasure through him and making him gasp…

And while Credence was distracted from _that,_ Percy sealed his mouth over a sensitive spot right where his neck met his shoulder and sucked on his skin with a fervor that nearly made Credence come right then and there. _“Ohhh,”_ he sighed, his body involuntarily tensing and then going limp against the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

He thought it would be like always—that Percy would do something that felt good, and then quickly stop, reassess, and ask for permission before doing it again—but this time, as he’d requested, Percy just _didn’t stop_ and continued to suck and tongue and _bite_ at his neck like an exceptionally hungry vampire. Sweat pooled on his skin, his breathing became erratic and high-pitched noises of mingled pleasure and pain slipped from his lips—but Percy kept going, biting and licking and sucking hard until Credence thought he might actually explode.

And that was _before_ he trailed a hand down Credence’s sweat-slick chest, traced his fingers over the contour of his belly with a light touch that made Credence twitch and moan, and— _is he really going to do this, oh God_ —wrapped a sure, steady hand around Credence’s aching cock and gave it a firm stroke.

 _“Ahhh!_ Stop, oh God, stop, you’re going to make me—” Credence’s words were nearly lost to another whimpering moan. “Percy—please—I don’t want it to be over yet, I want—”

Percy detached his mouth from Credence’s now pleasantly-sore neck and assured him, “It won’t be over, sweetheart. I’ll make you come again, as many times as you want.” He paused, and then asked gently, “Do you really want me to stop?”

“No,” Credence admitted. “God, no. It’s so good, so good, _please—”_

“Anything you want, love.” Percy touched him again, palming the hard length one moment and circling the dripping head with his fingertips the next, whispering delicious filth in Credence’s ear the whole time— “Please baby, let me feel how much you want me…come on, get it all over me, mark me with your come, make me yours…please…let go for me sweetheart, let me see how good I make you feel…”

It was too much. Credence writhed under the assault, the double-pronged attack of those wonderful, teasing caresses on his cock and Percy’s sweetly dirty narration driving him to absolute desperation. With a punched-out cry, he came so hard his entire body jerked, pleasure searing through his veins and pouring out of him in hot, messy spurts that did indeed get all over them both.

“Oh _yes,_ that’s it love, that’s it.” Percy quickly shifted his hold so that Credence could lie comfortably in his arms. “There…easy now, I’ve got you.”

It took a moment for Credence to breathe properly again. Despite Percy’s assurance that he could make this happen “all night,” Credence wasn’t sure if he’d really like that, just because he felt so pleasantly exhausted right now. “It’s never been like _that,”_ he panted.

“That good, huh?” Percy said with a satisfied grin. Credence watched, fascinated, as Percy reached out and lazily traced his fingers through the pool of pearly liquid that had settled in the dip of Credence’s belly. “God, you came so hard…it was so hot. Can I…” Credence looked up just in time to see faint traces of a blush forming on his lover’s face. “Can I lick it up, or is that…will you not like that?”

Credence couldn’t imagine for the life of him why anyone would _want_ to do that; swallowing after oral was one thing, but licking it off his body? But if that was what Percy really wanted… “If you want to, sure.”

“Mmm. Thank you, sweetheart.” Percy leaned in and pressed one last kiss to the place he’d marked on Credence’s neck, and then trailed more kisses down his chest. Credence was so wrung-out from his orgasm he could barely move, but he felt new, faint stirrings of pleasure inside him at the sensation of Percy’s soft lips against his skin.

And then Percy reached his belly, and inhaled sharply before he dipped his tongue into the seed that had pooled there. “Oh _God,”_ Credence heard him breathe quietly before he continued to lap up the remains of Credence’s release. Credence still wasn’t sure how he felt about that…until the soft, almost agonized sounds of pleasure that Percy made went straight to his still-spent dick.

 _Okay,_ he thought dizzily as Percy continued to clean him up with his tongue, _I can see why he likes this._ There was something intimately filthy about it; he’d imagined making love with Percy at least a dozen times, but he’d never dreamed that Percy might want to do something like _this_. Because people didn’t do things like this, not to him. Not to shy, anxious, unremarkable Credence Barebone.

But as Percy slowly sat back up, licking his lips and staring at him through blazing eyes, Credence didn’t feel like shy, anxious, unremarkable Credence Barebone anymore. He felt… _hot._ A sentiment that Percy clearly shared, as the next thing out of his mouth was, “You don’t know what you do to me, do you? God, you should see yourself, you’re a miracle.”

Credence slowly sat up too, a dangerous idea forming in his mind as his eyes landed on a streak of his own spend that had landed fairly high on Percy’s chest. It would have made him blush to think of how he must have looked when he came if he released _that much_ , but…no, he had more important things to blush about now. He reached out and scooped up the little streak of come…his hand faltered on the way up, he _knew_ Percy liked this, but… _what if it’s too much, what if he thinks I’m a pervert, what if he hates me—_

But Percy’s eyes went dark with lust as he seemed to realize what Credence intended. Emboldened, Credence raised his hand to the waiting lips and said in a rough whisper, “You missed a little bit.”

Percy caught his wrist and eagerly sucked his fingers into his mouth, a low moan building in the back of his throat. He licked Credence’s fingers clean and then let him go with a sigh. “You taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, staring at Credence with a dazed look in his eyes.

Credence reached out and cupped a hand around his cheek, marveling at the way Percy’s eyes immediately fluttered closed under the touch. He knew. Oh, he _knew_ what was going to happen tonight. “You said you’d make me come again and again, if I wanted,” he whispered as he gently pushed Percy onto his back and leaned over him, just the way he knew Percy liked. “So I was thinking, maybe one of those times could be…inside you?”

Percy let out a noise that could perhaps charitably be called a moan (but really, Credence thought with a smile, it was more like a whimper) and let his head fall back, exposing his throat to Credence’s waiting mouth. “Oh God,” he breathed as Credence nibbled and licked at his neck. “Yes, sweetheart, if you… _ahhh_ …if you want to… _Jesus, Credence…_ if you want to we ca—oh _fuck!”_

The last interjection was in response to Credence biting the sensitive skin right behind his ear. “You said you wanted to spoil me and you did…let me return the favor,” Credence murmured, flicking his tongue over the faint impression of his teeth. He slid his hands down the length of Percy’s body, admiring both the hard muscle and the softness of his skin.

“Credence! _Jesus_ ,” Percy moaned as Credence lowered his mouth to his waiting nipple. 

Credence loved that sound. He could _live_ on that sound. If he only could hear one thing before he died, he decided, it would be the sound of Percy moaning his name like a prayer. “Tell me what you want,” he said, and proceeded to pinch one nipple while flicking his tongue over the other.

Percy writhed beneath him, and actually flung his head back with a cry that sounded nearly painful when Credence pushed his knee between his thighs. He ground down against Credence’s leg, _hard,_ and when he spoke again he sounded as if he were on the verge of completely losing it. “I want you inside me, love,” he panted, his entire body shuddering beneath Credence’s.

“I want that too.” Credence reluctantly pulled his mouth away from Percy’s chest so he could sit up a little, look into his lover’s eyes. Percy was flushed and shivering, pupils blown wide with desire. “So, obviously, you may have to talk me through this a bit.”

Percy shook his head as if to clear it. “Right. Yeah, uh…here, let me up.” He briefly retreated into the bathroom on what seemed to be very shaky legs and returned with a little plastic bottle, the sight of which somehow made Credence feel that the temperature of the room had gone up about fifteen degrees. “I assume you know what to do with this,” Percy said with a little grin, tossing the bottle onto the pillow and kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, I think I do.” Credence reached for the bottle and was about to pop the cap when suddenly he realized there was absolutely nothing about their current position conducive to sex. “Come here and…lie down, I guess,” he said, patting the space next to him. “Do we have to do this from behind?”

Percy visibly shuddered. “No. I’d actually strongly prefer we not, if it’s all the same to you. Never liked going at it from behind, it just feels too…impersonal, you know?”

Credence definitely understood that. “Fine with me. So how can we do this, then?” Ultimately they arranged things so that Percy was on his back, pillow under his hips and legs spread for “easy access” (and even with all they’d done it _still_ made Credence blush to think of the implications of those words), with Credence settled between his thighs.

“Take this part slow, sweetheart,” Percy warned as Credence slicked up two fingers. “Start with one, don’t push in too far too fast. When you can get that one all the way inside, add another. And circle your fingers a little once you’ve got them inside, it’ll help loosen me up, get me ready for…what comes next.”

Credence carefully endeavored to follow those instructions as he pushed the first finger in nice and slow, watching Percy’s face the entire time for any discomfort. Slowly he increased the pressure and depth until he found himself two fingers deep inside Percy, who was rocking back against his touch and letting out increasingly filthy moans that made Credence so hard he actually felt dizzy. 

And then came the dirty talk, and the telltale exaggeration of the accent, which Credence had long since learned meant that Percy was _really_ enjoying what they were doing. “Oh, just like that—so fuckin’ good, I’m gonna cry, _shit_ , look at you, ahh—oh God yes, do that again— _Jesus_ , Credence, you— _fuck_ —”

With another generous application of lube he worked a third finger into Percy, who responded with a punched-out sound that went straight to Credence’s dick like a homing device. “Is that good? Am I doing this right” Credence teased, unable to hold back a giddy laugh.

“Oh God. As if you don’t know what— _oh_ —what you’re doing to me.” Percy let out a delirious-sounding laugh. “ _Jesus_ —I’m about to start begging any second now, sweetheart, just— _ahh_ —so you know—”

Egged on by his moans, Credence continued to finger Percy with intent, circling his fingers around Percy’s hole as instructed and pressing deeper with each stroke until he found the spot that made his boyfriend writhe in pleasure. He cared about nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, other than making Percy moan and gasp and cry out his name.

As Percy had warned him, it didn’t take long before he was full-on begging Credence to move things along. “Take me, sweetheart, _please_ ,” he gasped, and that was all Credence needed to hear.

He gently withdrew his fingers and was surprised when Percy let out an unhappy little whine. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, leaning over Percy to get a better look at him.

Percy shook his head. “No. Just feels empty when you pull out.”

“Oh…” Credence wasn’t sure why that surprised him so much. “So you…really do like it, then. Being…full.”

Percy understood immediately. “Did you think I was only asking you for this so I could spare you a bit of pain?” he asked, and Credence didn’t answer, but the not-answer was enough. “No, love. It’s not like that. I really do like doing things this way. Always have.” He paused and then pushed himself up on his elbows. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Did you think I was going to demand that you bottom for me? When we first started dating, I mean. Before we did…any of this.”

“No,” Credence said honestly. “I couldn’t picture you pressuring me to do anything. You apologized for not asking permission before you kissed me for the first time, Percy. I haven’t forgotten that.”

Percy gave him a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.”

Credence was on the verge of continuing with that thread, the words _you don’t have to be so careful, I trust you, I promise you won’t scare me off_ ready on his lips. He stopped himself, not wanting to kill the mood, and instead left it at, “It’s all right. Do you want me to keep going?”

“I’d very much like it if you did,” Percy encouraged him with a smile. 

Credence nodded and went back to work. He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses over every bit of skin he could reach, one hand gently cupping the back of his lover’s neck, the other trailing delicately down his ribcage. He didn’t know _everything_ about sex—or much at all, really—but he’d googled a few things since their last encounter. Credence was wary of hurting Percy, so he’d looked up ways to keep that from happening, and sources had unilaterally agreed being taken hurt less when the person “on the bottom,” so to speak, was kept calm and pliant as the penetration occurred.

With that in mind, Credence gently massaged the back of Percy’s neck with his fingertips, trying to keep him relaxed. “Do you want me to get you off first?” he offered. At Percy’s startled look he quickly explained, “It’s just that some of the, um…advice, I got online, it said…it said giving your partner an orgasm before penetration can promote relaxation, I just thought—”

“Oh dear God stop, you sound like Newt,” Percy cut him off with a laugh. His face softened as he said, “But it means the world to me that you…you know. Came prepared.” He reached up and drew the back of his hand down Credence’s cheek. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, my love. And you won’t.”

“I don’t just want to not hurt you,” Credence admitted shyly. “I want it to be… _good.”_

“It will be,” Percy promised him. “You don’t even know, Credence…you make me feel so good just by kissing me, holding me…” Percy looked at him through eyes that could only be described as love-struck. “God, sweetheart…the way you look at me could go to a man’s head, you know that?”

Credence couldn’t hold back what he knew was a dopey smile as he reached down to trace light, soothing half-circles across Percy’s skin, relishing the way his lover’s eyelids fluttered in response to his touch. “All right. I’m going to go slow, and you _tell me_ if I hurt you, all right? Even if it’s just a little bit.”

He waited for Percy to consent with a nod before he pushed the older man’s knees up and apart, and very carefully began to enter him—and— _oh_ —

Heaven. Pure, warm, incomprehensible _heaven._ Slick and warm and absolutely wonderful. It felt like Percy’s body was welcoming him, drawing him in, _hugging_ him. Like their bodies knew what their hearts had known since day one: this was it, this was _right._

“I love you,” Credence whispered in awestruck wonder as he slid deeper inside, mesmerized by the way Percy’s eyes fluttered and his lips parted in a sigh of pleasure. He pushed in slowly, eased his way in until with a breathy moan he finally bottomed out. He paused there to watch Percy’s face very carefully for any discomfort, and was thrilled to only see bliss there instead.

Percy’s tongue darted out to flick across his parted lips. “You can—you can move. I _want_ you to move,” he breathed, eyes squeezed shut.

Credence certainly wasn’t about to make him ask twice. He slid out partway and pushed back in experimentally, eyes locked on Percy’s face the entire time. When that careful, single thrust brought forth another soft sigh of pleasure, he went for it again, a little harder this time, and it felt so good Credence very nearly cried. Finally confident that Percy was enjoying this too, that Credence wasn’t hurting him at all, he began to eagerly thrust in and out, resulting in drawn-out, desperate moans from both of them.

_Yes. This is how it should be._

He’d expected to feel guilty, hear those familiar chants of _you’re going to hell, Credence_ in the back of his mind. Instead, the last vestiges of his mother’s harshest admonitions melted away at the sight of Percy—amazing, handsome, _perfect_ Percy—spread out beneath him, shuddering under his touch, gasping Credence’s name like a prayer as they moved together like they had been made for that purpose alone.

It was incredible. It was beautiful. It was _right._

“Touch yourself,” Credence whispered on a downstroke, his lips inches from Percy’s neck, and was rewarded with the sound of Percy nearly sobbing his name and the beautiful sight of Percy reaching down to jerk himself in time to their rocking bodies.

He knew that Percy was close to the edge when he started talking again—“yes sweetheart _yes_ , just like that, oh God I’m so close, please fucking please don’t stop it’s so good don’t stop, I need you, you’re so good so good _so good_ ”—and he could feel his own pleasure building inside him as well, an all-consuming, nearly painful _need_ that brought tears to his eyes. 

“I’m close, Percy,” he murmured on another hard thrust. “Are you going to come for me now…angel?”

The word just slipped out. _Angel_. Credence hadn’t thought of it, hadn’t meant to say, had never even considered calling Percy anything but his name before…but it _fit_ , and even better, it seemed to drive him absolutely wild. “ _Credence_ ,” he moaned, eyelids fluttering, entire body held taught like a thread about to snap. “Fuck, sweetheart, I— _yes_ —oh— _oh_ —” His back arched, his head fell back and he let out a broken, nearly-inhuman cry as his orgasm hit him hard.

The sight of Percy experiencing such ecstasy was too much for Credence. Helpless against the wave of love and desire that crashed over him, he clutched his lover tightly against him as he came, entire body trembling with pleasure. “Oh, yes, _yes_ ,” he gasped as he shuddered through his climax.

Percy clung to him as they came down from the high together. His arms closed tight around Credence, keeping his head pressed against his chest, so that Credence could hear his heart pounding underneath him. They were sticky and sweaty and his back was already beginning to hurt from being bent at this angle, but for a long moment Credence stayed there, letting Percy hold onto him as long as he liked.

Then he remembered something Percy liked even better. He groped for he box of tissues on the nightstand until he managed to snatch a handful of them. He clumsily cleaned off most of the sweat and semen before he rolled over and slid an arm under Percy’s neck to better draw him in, telling Percy to lay on him. His sleepy, pliant lover did just that, melting into Credence’s arms with a deep sigh.

Oh, but it felt _good._ Credence loved how Percy’s warm weight on top of him made him feel so safe, he loved that he could wrap both arms around Percy and hold him tight for as long as he wanted, and he especially loved that he could feel the steady huff of Percy’s breath against his chest, reminding him that Percy was _right there_ and this was _real._ It was so intimate it made his heart ache in the most pleasant of ways, so tender he could’ve cried tears of joy if he weren’t so damn tired.

Credence was used to uncertainty, to the feeling that he was missing something, but now, for the first time, he felt whole. Nothing, absolutely nothing in the world, could _ever_ be more perfect than this moment. Of that, he knew he could be absolutely sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Yeah. *blush* Still not sure how this got so far away from me but. Here you go. *hides in the corner*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND WE'RE BAAACK :D :D :D
> 
> This is a long one lovelies, so be prepared. (It's worth it. I think, anyway.) ;) This one is also pretty much 100% Graves' perspective, which seemed only fair given that Credence got the whole last chapter lol.
> 
> I'll put the usual end notes up here: a stóirín, the pet name that Graves' mom calls him, translates to "my little treasure."
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MEQvrDY1d9g) is the song Graves is singing along to when they decorate the tree, and yes, this WAS my favorite Christmas song as a child, why do you ask? ;)
> 
> [This](https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/10-Lake-Ct-Grosse-Pointe-MI-48230/88579858_zpid/?) is my mental image of the Graves family house...but if that doesn't float your boat feel free to imagine it as big and snobby and old-money as your heart desires, lol. ;P
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -Very brief, oblique discussion of implied past trauma/sexual assault  
> -Discussion/brief reference to child abuse (goes hand-in-hand with #3)  
> -Religious identity crisis at a Christmas tree farm (yes, you read that right)  
> -Sex scene after the first pagebreak (the "~" symbol) - mostly oral, no graphic descriptions of penetration
> 
> Buuut overall this one is also pretty fluffy. So. Enjoy that. ;)

Graves woke to the feeling of a hand moving in slow, lazy circles across his back and the sound of a steady, reassuring heartbeat under his ear. _Credence._ Every memory of the previous night came flooding back and he couldn’t help a deep, contented sigh from escaping his lips. _This is it,_ he thought hazily as Credence’s hand drifted up to comb through his hair. _This is all I want, forever._

“I know you’re awake,” Credence said, sounding a little amused. “I can hear you thinking.”

Graves couldn’t help but laugh, just a little. “Oh, you caught me.” He lifted his head to look into Credence’s eyes, much as he hated to leave the sound of that lovely heartbeat behind even for a minute.

Credence looked absolutely beautiful. He was flushed and warm all over, his lips still red and swollen from last night’s activities, his eyes sparkling with a new kind of confidence…all of it, Graves realized with a jolt, was straight out of the fantasies he’d had what felt like years ago now but was really just a few months.

How far they had come…the broken man who once thought he could never love again, and the frightened boy who once thought he didn’t deserve love. Had they made each other whole, he wondered, or had they fought to make themselves whole for each other?

He reached out to cup his hand around Credence’s cheek. “You’re just lovely, you know that? I’m torn between putting you on a pedestal like the treasure you are, and doing something truly filthy to thank you properly for last night.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I didn’t think it would be…like _that.”_ Credence sighed dreamily and went back to playing with Graves’ hair. “Every time we do stuff it gets better, I swear.”

“It’ll keep getting better,” Graves assured him with a sigh of his own. His eyelids grew heavy, even though he’d just woken up, as Credence twisted and stroked his hair. God, but the kid knew how to make him feel good. “You’re going to put me to sleep again, sweetheart,” he warned.

“Who cares? Not like we have anywhere to be.” Credence moved on to the back of his neck, massaging gently with his fingertips. “And you did promise that once I was done with my classes, we could spend a whole day in bed together.”

“Ahh. Don’t tempt me, love… _mmm,_ yes, that feels so good…” He let his eyes fall closed, let himself melt under Credence’s touch. No point in resisting, he thought distantly. It wasn’t like they didn’t both know that Credence owned him.

Credence rolled them over and kissed him, long and deep and slow. A little moan escaped as Graves let himself relax into the kiss, lazily reaching up to plunge his fingers into Credence’s long hair. He felt a hand against the small of his back, bringing their bodies that much closer together, and he let out a real moan that got lost somewhere in the perfect cavern of Credence’s mouth.

And then warm, soft lips were suddenly on his neck, somehow arousing and soothing at the same time, and he could still feel Credence’s hand pressing tenderly but firmly into his lower back, could feel Credence on top of him and around him and everywhere and it was almost unbelievable, how deeply safe and loved he felt. He should give back, he thought as Credence pulled away only to bend his head and nip at his collarbones, he should do something, he should…

“I have to tell you something,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I tried to tell you before…about my ex…it wasn’t just a bad breakup, sweetheart, it was… _I_ was…”

Once again words failed him. _You’re bringing this up now?_ some part of him screamed in mingled horror and exasperation. _He’s showering you with love and affection and you’re going to fucking tell him NOW? What’s wrong with you?_

But Credence didn’t seem fazed at all. He just shifted their position a little so that he was cradling Graves against his chest, his hand resting over Graves’ ribcage in a gesture that was both protective and wonderfully tender. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said softly. “You really don’t.”

Graves swallowed hard, his eyes instinctively squeezing shut. “You know.” It wasn’t a question.

“It took me a while to figure it out, but yeah. I know. At first I thought he just hit you.” Credence paused, and then said very quietly, “But that’s not all he did, was it? I was thinking this morning, about what you said last night… ‘when it comes to consent I can go a little overboard’…I don’t know. Something just clicked.”

“I should have told you…I should have trusted you…it’s not because I didn’t love you, or because I didn’t think you’d care…I just didn’t know how to—”

“Look at me,” Credence gently coaxed him, and Graves reluctantly dragged his eyes open. “I don’t think I have to tell you how I know this, Percy, but when you get hurt like that it’s _hard_ to trust someone again and you…last night you let me touch you, you let me _fuck you._ You think I don’t know what that means?”

He held up his scarred hand, a glaring reminder that he, too, knew the pain of being deeply harmed and betrayed by someone who was supposed to care for him. _“Oh,”_ was all Graves could say, his heart beating fast, too dazed to keep yelling at himself.

“Yeah.” Credence lay back down and let Graves rest his head on his chest. “So, yes, I know. And if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t.”

“Thank you.” He pressed his face into Credence’s chest, wishing that he could stop time, just stay there and be hypnotized by that perfect heartbeat for the rest of his life. “I don’t even know how to thank you, love. You’re…I swear to God, Credence, you’re _everything.”_

“And so are you,” Credence told him with steely conviction, and for a long time after that, there was no need for further conversation.

~

Credence was kind enough to allow another half-hour or so of cuddles before he eventually asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want to go get some breakfast?”

That, Graves knew, was Credence-speak for _please feed me._ “Yeah, good idea. Want to go right downstairs, or do you want a shower first?”

Credence perked up at that. “Together?” he said eagerly.

“I’d like nothing better.” 

Credence followed him into the bathroom, letting out the most adorable little moan when he got into the shower and felt the hot water hit him. He immediately reached out and pulled Graves flush against him, their mouths meeting amidst clouds of steam. Graves moaned shamelessly into the kiss and twined his fingers in Credence’s wet hair, pressing them as close together as possible.

“Tell me you still want me,” he pleaded when they broke apart. “I need to hear you say it.”

Credence looked completely stunned. “How could I _not_ want you?”

Graves would have answered, but Credence had claimed his mouth again and he couldn’t make himself pull away. As the kiss deepened Credence flipped them so that Graves was pressed against the shower wall. _God, yes, have me,_ he thought desperately as Credence devoured his neck. _Let me feel like you still want me, let me feel that you don’t think I’m too old, too damaged, too used-up_ —

“I want to try something,” Credence said tentatively. “Something I, um…read about. Will you…turn around, please? I’m not going to take you from behind, I know you don’t like that,” he quickly added. “But, um, you might want to hold onto something and I…well, uh, I’ll be on my knees, so…”

“Oh,” Graves said, blinking in surprise as he picked up what Credence was laying down. _“Oh._ Yeah. Okay.” He turned and braced himself against the tiles. 

He felt the kisses on his neck first, Credence’s full lips pressing gently against his skin, moving steadily down the curve of his neck to lick droplets of water off his shoulder. Then came the breathy whisper just behind his ear: “I’m gonna clean you up first, okay?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said a little faintly, wondering if his heart, knees, or dick would break down before Credence got around to actually eating him out.

Credence was nothing if not thorough. He kissed and caressed every inch of Graves that he could get his hands and lips on, smoothing palmfuls of cool liquid soap in his wake, pausing now and then to whisper something sweet to him or turn his head for a kiss. By the time Credence knelt behind him—pausing on the way to trail kisses down his back—Graves was so hard he felt lightheaded. 

Just like with everything else they’d done Credence was inexperienced, but he seemed to have a solid idea of what he wanted to do and it just took him a few minutes to figure out the mechanics of how to do it. He started with little kitten-licks and slowly pushed in with progressively deeper strokes, circling the tip of his tongue around the rim like he’d done with his fingers the previous night. It didn’t take long for Graves to lose himself in the pleasure, and by that point no power in heaven or earth could stop him from babbling like an idiot and professing his undying love as Credence pushed him closer to the edge. 

And then Credence pulled back and gently nudged his hip, indicating that Graves should turn around. He did, simultaneously disappointed and glad of a reprieve, only to let out an honest-to-God yelp when Credence swirled his tongue around the dripping head of his cock. “Credence, you’re killing me here,” he groaned, letting his head thunk back against the wall of the shower.

Credence responded by delicately sucking the tip into his mouth, teasing the underside with his tongue. The kid’s instincts, Graves had to admit, were damn good: quickly learning that he could not, in fact, fit the whole thing into his mouth, Credence settled on sucking Graves as far down as he could and using a soap-slicked hand to stroke what he couldn’t swallow.

“I’m close,” Graves warned, between shouts of _oh God yes_ and _fuck don’t stop._

Credence just smiled around the cock in his mouth (and wasn’t _that_ a fucking sight!) and sucked harder, and…well, that did it. Graves came with a strangled noise that straddled the divide between a moan and a wail. His legs felt like rubber. He let himself slide down the wall and, seeing that Credence looked a little worried, pulled him into his lap. “Did I break you?” Credence asked, once they were safely settled on the floor.

“As soon as I remember how to breathe I’ll tell you,” Graves replied with a shaky laugh, burying his face in Credence’s neck. “You read about _that_ online? You sweet thing…you’re going to kill me and I swear I’m going to love every second of it. Give me a minute to recover and I’ll return the favor.”

“Um. You don’t have to,” Credence admitted, and Graves pulled back just in time to see the sheepish smile on his face. “I kind of…look, it was really hot, the noises you were making, I just…sorry?”

“I’ll forgive you this time, I guess,” Graves said playfully, giving Credence a little squeeze so he would understand it was a joke. “C’mon, love. As soon as I remember how to stand up, we’ll get moving. I need to feed you.”

“Oh God…” Credence buried his face in his hands. “I just realized…your family is downstairs. And they probably heard us, oh my _God_ …no, you know what, I changed my mind. I’ll just stay up here and starve.”

Graves knew he was kidding. But the memory of the closet food stockpile flashed into his mind, and he tightened his grip on Credence, just a little. “No you won’t,” he promised tenderly. “Not a chance, sweetheart. Not on my watch.”

~

They ended up scavenging some Eggo waffles and microwaveable sausage and going back upstairs for another round, much to Credence’s apparent shock and delight. This time Graves laid Credence out on his bed, told him, “You’re going to _love_ this,” and proceeded to tease him with soft all-over kisses and light, barely-there touches. When Credence was so worked up he was on the verge of crying, Graves _very gently_ held him down and rode him until they both came so hard it took a good while for them to get their breath back.

“Wow,” was the first thing Credence said when he’d recovered. “I mean. _Wow.”_

“So I’ve broken you this time, then?” Graves teased him, reaching out and tenderly brushing the sweaty hair from Credence’s eyes. 

“I’m never moving again, but other than that, no big deal,” Credence quipped back, turning his head just enough to look into Graves’ eyes. “Are we really going to hide up here and just…do this? All day?” Suddenly the anxiety from earlier flashed through his eyes. “Your family—”

“—won’t care. They know I’m long overdue for it, trust me,” Graves assured him, and then winced when he saw the shock on his lover’s face. “No, I mean—it’s not like I sit around telling my mum about my sex life. It’s just—they know. That it’s, um. It’s been a while since I’ve…you know. Been with anyone.”

“Oh.” Credence rolled over and squirmed his way into Graves’ arms, tucking his head up under his chin and slinging an arm around his waist. “I’m _so_ thrilled you chose me,” he whispered, his breath a caress against Graves’ skin. “I can’t believe of all people…that _I_ was the one you wanted enough, _trusted_ enough…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Graves closed both arms around Credence and held him tightly. “It’s more than that, and I think you know it.”

“I do.” Credence swallowed hard. “I know Seamus was just teasing, but…” He trailed off, and when he spoke again there was a quiver in his voice that set Graves on edge. “I don’t want it to just be a joke,” he whispered.

It took Graves a moment to understand what he was trying to say. And when he did he reeled, _too soon_ warring in his mind with _but really, are you ever going to feel this way about anyone else?_ And then he very nearly panicked, afraid that those few crucial seconds would scare Credence, would make him fear punishment for being open about his feelings and—no. No, he couldn’t let that happen.

Trying to speak as softly and non-threateningly as he could, Graves asked, “Would you like that? You want me all to yourself forever? Would that make you happy, my sweet boy?”

“It would,” Credence whispered back with a shiver.

Graves cradled Credence close, keeping his voice and his touch as gentle as he could manage as he said reassuringly, “Okay. There, you’re all right. It’s not wrong to feel that way, and it’s not wrong to tell me, okay? Look at me…” He drew back and looked Credence in the eyes, and his heart cracked at the tears he saw there. “Oh, Credence… _it’s okay.”_ He cupped his palm around his lover’s flushed cheek, gently tracing that flawless cheekbone with his thumb. “You don’t need to be scared. I want what you want, my love.”

Credence’s tears almost instantly dried up. Suddenly his eyes took on a different kind of brightness and he looked… _alive._ “Oh,” he breathed. “I just—I thought this would be—too much, I—I don’t know—”

“Sh-h-h. I understand. I really do. But it’s all right. I will never, _ever_ turn you away because you feel something before I do, or if you want to move at a different pace…we need to talk about these things, yeah?” Graves gently drew Credence back into his arms, resting the boy’s head in the crook of his neck. “But it just so happens that in this case we’re on the same page. I waited my whole life for you, you know. I’m not just going to let you go.”

“Promise,” Credence breathed, fingertips reaching up to lightly trace the outline of Graves’ lips. “Promise me, please…I don’t want to be without you.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Graves couldn’t stop himself from stealing a kiss. “I will not leave you, my love. I promise,” he whispered against Credence’s lips.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it had only been three months (or not even that). But he meant every word.

~  
  


“Look who’s still alive,” Morgan smirked when at last, around 12:30 that afternoon, Graves finally coaxed Credence to come downstairs and brave the rest of the family for the sake of getting lunch.

“Easy there, my girl. We don’t want to embarrass them, now,” Reuben, who was taking delicious-smelling sandwiches out of an insulated carryout bag, warned her.

Credence had hidden his face in Graves’ shoulder when Morgan teased them, but when Reuben warned her off he looked up, a shy smile curving his lips. He let go of Graves and hesitantly edged over to the kitchen island, closer to where Reuben was unpacking the food. “That smells good. What is it?”

“This, my lad, is a lamp-lighter sandwich, and if you learn to make it just right, you’ll have your fella in the palm of your hand for life.” He put one on a plate along with a handful of fresh, hot chips and passed it over. “Hot corned beef, swiss cheese, and secret dressing on toasted rye…been this one’s favorite since he first set foot in my diner,” he added, nodding to Graves.

“It’s true.” Graves went up and settled a hand on Credence’s slender waist. “Give it a try. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll go get Mum. She’ll be happy to see you two finally, uh, _woke up,”_ Morgan said with a wink, before she disappeared up the stairs.

Graves ignored her and focused on Credence, wanting to see him try the sandwich. He wasn’t expecting Credence to actually moan as he took his first bite, his pretty eyes fluttering closed in delight. “Oh,” he sighed. “Oh, it’s _good.”_

“He _is_ the one for you, isn’t he,” Reuben said with an indulgent chuckle, but Graves could feel that he was being watched closely. He knew how it looked, the way he was utterly entranced by the sight of Credence doing something as basic as eating a sandwich. He knew, but he didn’t care.

They settled at the kitchen island with their food instead of going into the dining room. “Seamus is minding the restaurant. He’ll be glad to hear you liked the sandwiches,” Reuben told Credence. “And when he’s done with work for the day he’ll be coming back to take the little ones to pick out a Christmas tree.”

Credence visibly perked up at that. “Oh! Can we—never mind.” He deflated a little, and it took the combined coaxing of Reuben and Graves, and Morgan when she came back downstairs with Tierney, to get it out of him: “I was going to ask to come along, but…I don’t know. Never mind. If it’s a family thing I don’t want to intrude—”

“You _are_ family now,” Tierney told him firmly.

 _More so after this morning,_ Graves thought, recalling with an untimely blush the promises he’d made Credence in bed.

“Seamus will leap for joy if you come along, he’s that excited to have you staying here with us,” Morgan informed Credence. She leaned forward and added in a conspiratorial whisper, “None of Percival’s boyfriends ever really took to him before now, you see, so you’re something very special.”

Graves flashed her a thankful smile. He’d been afraid that Morgan might think it odd that he was so determined to insert Credence into the family traditions as much as possible, especially since so many of them were geared towards the kids. But Credence had never picked out a Christmas tree, or baked cookies for Santa Claus, or helped string up fairy lights. And Graves badly wanted him to have the chance to do all of that, to have those experiences he’d missed as a child.

He’d give Credence the world if he could. But as he couldn’t do that, he could at least give the boy some happy memories to replace the darker ones.

~

A light snow began to fall as the Graves family made their way through the Christmas tree lot. Brigid and James skipped ahead, reveling in the fact that they could play and shout and sing as loudly as they liked out in the fields. Every now and then Seamus would chase them down, while Tierney and Morgan laughed indulgently. Only Reuben seemed to actually be trying to find a tree.

Reason for the Season CHRISTmas Tree Farm, the place where the Graves family always got their trees, had a very religious flavor to it; there were nativity scenes all over the place and traditional carols playing over the loudspeakers. Melinda, the owner of the farm, had immediately stopped them at the gate and ignored Credence’s shy offer of a handshake. “We hug on this farm,” she said firmly, and proceeded to do just that, before she handed around cups of hot chocolate and bade them to go find their “perfect tree.”

Credence had gone silent as they walked past the giant light-up creche at the entrance to the tree field. Now Graves slipped an arm around his shoulder and tried to squeeze a smile out of him. “You all right, love? Cold? Tired?” Credence shook his head, apparently unable to meet Graves’ eyes. “Sweetheart, talk to me,” Graves coaxed him.

Credence hesitated, then pulled him into a little knot of tall trees that hid them fairly well from the others, who were trying to talk Brigid out of a nine-foot-tall mammoth tree that wouldn’t even fit in the family home’s grand living room. After a long, tense pause he asked, “Does Melinda know I’m your boyfriend?”

“Do you mean, does she _care_ that you’re my boyfriend?” Graves asked gently. “No, sweetheart, she doesn’t mind. She’s known my family since we moved to America, just like Reuben…hell, she knew I was gay almost before I did.”

“But…” Credence gestured vaguely, presumably at the religious trappings.

“Yes, she’s Christian. Goes to the same church as my family, in fact. You’ll see her on Christmas Eve, most likely. _Oh…_ I see…” The stark, cold introduction Credence had to religion must have vastly clashed with the bright, clean warmth of the light-up creche and beautiful choral music he was seeing now. That made sense. “Not all Christians are about fire and brimstone, sweetheart.”

“I know that…” Credence looked uncomfortably away. He looked so helplessly troubled that Graves almost couldn’t bear it; he’d have torn out his own heart to make that lost, vulnerable look disappear from Credence’s face. “I—I _like_ it here. I like the religious carols and I like the nativity scenes and—the way I grew up, this should _scare_ me, not—I shouldn’t _like it_ —”

“When you were upset after you lost a patient, where did you go?” Graves asked pointedly, and Credence fell silent. “Your mum doesn’t own your faith, love.” He pulled Credence in close and reassuringly rubbed his back. “She used it as a weapon, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t reclaim it, use it for comfort.”

Credence pressed his face into Graves’ neck, and Graves was not at all surprised to feel something wet there. “I don’t know what I think or what I believe anymore, I just…I want, so badly, for her to be wrong,” he whispered. “I want to think that…that there _is_ something out there and…and I want it to be _good.”_

Graves had no idea how to sort this out. This was priest and possibly therapist territory. All he could do was offer comfort. “I know, love. I know. You can want that. It’s okay,” he assured Credence gently, and that seemed to be enough. 

They stood there for a good few minutes in the little circlet of trees, and with Credence warm and soft in his arms, the snow falling, the soft music playing, Graves began to feel as if he’d stepped into a fairy ring. It was so deeply intimate to have Credence there with him in a place that had meant so much to him as a child…and to have Credence trust him enough to pour out his heart like this…and to know that his family was there, and that they all knew what it meant, having Credence there, and they were just happy that he was happy…

They rejoined the others just in time to find Seamus getting ready to cut down an eight-foot monstrosity that Graves secretly thought may well be a stretch even for the grand living room at the family home. He expected Credence to stay close, but he was surprised when Credence saw what Seamus was about to do and promptly said, “Wait, that’s wrong—here, let me help.”

Stunned, Graves watched as Credence took charge of cutting down the tree, scorning the little hand saw in favor of a good old-fashioned ax. He knew that, as the family tradition demanded, he ought to be over there helping, but he was too mesmerized by Credence’s sudden confidence. It was a reoccuring theme: give Credence the slightest hint of encouragement, or give him a job he knew he could do well, and he shone like a diamond under a spotlight.

“You’ve chosen well, _a stóirín.”_

Graves jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he scolded her. “And I told you not to call me that anymore, I’m too old for it.”

“Oh, Percival. I pity your therapist. Whatever your insurance is paying that poor man it isn’t enough. It’s like trying to have a discussion with an angry porcupine, talking to you,” she said with a good-natured roll of her eyes. Then, in a more serious tone, “Reuben says you’re likely to marry that young man.”

“We’ve been dating for less than three months, Mum.”

“Ah, well. Your father proposed on our fifth date,” she said lightly, brushing away Graves’ very reasonable point with a careless wave of her hand. “We mate for life in this family, as you well know.” 

It was true. Morgan and Seamus had been a whirlwind romance as well, with him proposing before she’d even graduated high school. Graves knew that if he wanted to, he could ask Credence to marry him then and there and his family wouldn’t find it questionable in the slightest. (Now, Tina on the other hand…)

He sighed heavily and looked down at the swirling snow flurries at his feet. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he admitted quietly. “It’s like I’ve been…not alone, exactly; I always had you and the others, and I’ve not been starved for affection or anything like, but he’s…he’s everything I never knew I needed.”

“He’s your one,” Tierney translated gently, her hand coming to rest in the crook of his arm. “Is there any point in pretending otherwise?”

“It’s not like—I don’t want to—I’m not going to elope with him tomorrow, you know,” Graves muttered defensively.

“No one said you would…but I think if you let him, he could heal a few of those old wounds for you.”

“I’ve got a therapist for that, Mum. I don’t need him to… _fix me.”_

“I didn’t say that,” she said patiently. “I said he could help you heal, and if you ask me, he already has. I can’t remember the last time I saw you so at ease with someone outside the family.”

She had him there. Anyone Graves had met after _that night,_ with the very rare exception of Lilah, had been held at arm’s length. But Credence…Credence had melted his walls down to almost nothing and Graves knew it. Hell, here he was trying to stave off his mother when he knew full well that if Credence were to come over to where he stood, kneel down and present a ring, Graves would say yes before Credence had even finished asking the question.

He watched Credence, Seamus, and Reuben finish cutting down the tree and load it into the cart. Credence was more lovely than ever, flushed red from exertion, laughing at James’ attempts to “help” with the tree, snowflakes catching in his dark hair. Graves found himself wondering if, maybe, Credence would consider taking his last name…

Credence chose that moment to look up, and when those lovely eyes met his, Graves felt his heart just about melt out of his ribcage. He knew there was no point in denying it. Playing it cool, taking it slow, keeping it secret—all of that was well and truly out the window.

“I can’t live without him,” he heard himself say, and felt his mother’s hand gently contract around his arm in reply. “I could survive, I mean, if he needed me to let him go, but…but I can’t _live_ without him.”

“We all can see that, dear,” Tierney said with a knowing little chuckle. “Now, the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Graves didn’t have to think much about that. He _knew._

~

_“Close your eyes, listen to the skies…all is calm, all is well when you hear Kris Kringle and the jingle bells…”_

“Oh my God, _stoooop,”_ Morgan moaned theatrically, making a little show of covering her ears. “You couldn’t sing as a kid and you can’t sing now. Do us a favor and quit it.”

“I like it,” Credence protested, looking up from the ornament he was untangling from its tissue-paper wrapping. “Percy, don’t listen to her. You sound fine.”

Tierney chuckled and handed Reuben a newly-untangled loop of fairy lights. “Oh, the sweet little lad. He’s pure gone on you, isn’t he,” she teased. “If he likes your singing, you’d best get him to the church now, because you’ll never find one like that again.”

Graves rolled his eyes and went to sit beside Credence on the couch, where he was helping little Brigid unwrap and sort out the Christmas ornaments. “All right, sweetheart?” he said softly, under cover of James (whose singing, Graves thought privately, was _much_ worse than his) wailing along to the ancient Raffi tape. “We aren’t overwhelming you too much, are we?”

Credence looked up at him with an unmistakable spark of delight in his dark eyes. “I’m fine. Having a great time, actually,” he assured Graves. He held up the ornament he was unwrapping, a blown-glass step-dancing girl in traditional green, holding up a four-leaf clover that read _Tis a blessing to be Irish!_ “Okay now really, Percy? _Really?”_

Morgan saw what he was holding and burst out laughing. “Oh, you’re breaking his heart so. He loved that one when he was a boy. Picked it out himself.”

Graves cringed at the memory. “In my defense, we had just moved here, and I was _really_ missing home,” he reminded her.

“Hey, it’s fine.” Credence set aside the dancing Irish girl and squeezed Graves’ hand. “No good being Irish if you don’t take every opportunity to remind everybody that you are, right?” he teased.

Graves stared at him in mock-astonishment that was half real. “Are you making fun of me, really?” When Credence’s smile began to fade Graves quickly told him, “No, I like seeing that spirited side of yours come out. Should do it more often, actually. Tease all you like, sweet boy. I don’t mind a bit when _you_ do it.”

 _“Percival and Credence, sitting in a tree…”_ Seamus began in a sing-song voice, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Morgan leaned over to swat him on the arm. “You hush. I seem to recall you saying something quite similar on our first date, Mr. Finnegan.”

Credence perked up. “Oh, yeah—I was going to ask, how’d you two meet?”

“Not well,” Seamus admitted with a shameless little laugh. “I pulled her hair, put a spider in her lunchbox, said she had cooties, then came home and told Uncle Reuben I would marry her someday.”

“If only I’d known,” Morgan said with a roll of her eyes, in a tone so affectionate no one could believe her exasperation was real.

“She didn’t really warm up to me until I took her to her first homecoming dance,” Seamus went on. “But then we got serious fast. Not unlike you two,” he said, nodding to Credence and Graves. “Asked her to marry me at our senior prom.”

“He even went to Mum and asked her blessing,” Morgan added. “Dad was gone by then, see, but Seamus here, well, he still wanted to do things right.”

“Gone?” Credence looked to Graves with wide eyes. “When did that—”

“When I was sixteen. Oh, sweetheart, no, don’t look at me like that. It was a long time ago. It hurt like hell, yeah, but it’s all right now. Really. And he’d have liked you, I think.” Graves leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the side of Credence’s face. “I’m going to grab a drink. Can I bring you something too? More hot chocolate maybe? Great. I’ll be right back.”

He ducked away into the kitchen, not surprised at all when Morgan followed him. “Here,” she said with a grin, quickly fishing the Jameson out of the fridge and pouring him a shot. “I know you made some weird promise to the guy but, well…I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Ah, sound. Thanks a million.” He downed the shot like it was medicine, feeling his sister’s eyes on him the whole time. “If you’ve something to say, Morgy, just go ahead and say it.”

“You’re going to ask him, aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question.

“We’ve only been together a few months—”

“—and that means absolutely nothing in this family, as you well know. ‘A Graves mates for life,’ remember?”

Graves rolled his eyes. They’d both heard their mother say that over the years, but the string of messy college hook-ups followed by multiple failed relationships in his twenties, and of course the catastrophe that had been Gellert Grindelwald, tended to contradict it in his case. “Please tell that to every poor bastard I slept with at Ilvermorny.”

“We aren’t talking about them, Perce. We’re talking about Credence. Do you love him?”

“Mary and Joseph, woman. It’s damn obvious I do, isn’t it?”

“That’s all I need to hear,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Now, am I going to have to fight Tina _and_ Lilah to be your best woman, or just Lilah? Are you and Tina still on the outs? I can’t keep track, honestly.”

“I’m taking him to Oakwood, see if I don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head. Why, _why_ did he never learn to never tell his sister or his mother _anything?_ Even a tiny bit of information, it seemed, was dangerous in their hands.

He went back into the great room just in time to see that the lights were on the tree and they’d moved on to putting up ornaments…and Credence was holding Brigid on his hip like a baby, keeping her steady as she carefully hooked an ornament onto a branch.

For a moment, Graves couldn’t breathe, he was so deeply struck by the scene before him. Credence looked _happy._ He looked like he _belonged._ Brigid clung to him tightly, her head tucked neatly into the crook of Credence’s neck and her tiny arms wrapped around his shoulders. Credence was humming along to the music, bouncing Brigid gently in his arms, and something deep and primal came loose inside Graves and all he could think was that if anyone tried to take this away from him, if anyone tried to tell him that this was wrong, he would slay them where they stood.

 _My Credence,_ he thought dreamily, his heart swelling to rival that of the notorious Grinch, tears coming unbidden to his eyes. Credence turned around, Brigid still in his arms, and locked eyes with Graves. A joyful smile curved his lips, his eyes sparkling with the confidence and excitement of a man in his prime. A man who knew he was loved. 

_I did that,_ Graves thought, his throat tight. _I gave him that. If nothing else, if there’s not another damn thing I ever do for him…at least I could give him this much._

~

“I know you don't love it that Credence and I are dating,” Graves began carefully, as he paced the Goldsteins’ living room. “I know you never really came around to the idea, you’re just sort of tolerating it. And that’s fine, I know you care about both of us and you just want us to not get hurt. But I need you to stop worrying and just hear me out, just this once.”

Tina watched him through wary eyes. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

Graves had told Credence he had therapy today, as an excuse for leaving the house. Really, however, he had a much more important errand. “Tina. Seriously. This is important. I _need_ you to keep an open mind, all right? Please?”

Tina still looked suspicious. But Queenie already seemed to know; she was sitting up straight and her face was all lit up. Jacob, too, seemed to have caught on. “Well, go ahead and ask, then,” he said with a knowing grin.

Graves took a deep breath and, with maximum effort, stopped pacing and faced the three of them. He felt like he was on trial, and even though he knew he didn’t _need_ their approval, it felt important to get it anyway.

“I’m here to get your blessing.” He looked straight at Tina as he finished, “I’m going to ask Credence to marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Oakwood Wedding Chapel](http://www.oakwoodweddingchapel.com/) is a local hotspot for elopements and small weddings in southeast Michigan. Threatening to elope there, as Graves does when Morgan teases him, is a very common way of ending arguments if you live anywhere southeast of Royal Oak, lol. ;P
> 
> Trauma/assault discussion TW spoilers: Right at the beginning of the chapter, during the "morning-after," Graves feels compelled to try and tell Credence what Grindelwald did to him...only to discover that Credence has already worked it out for himself, based on the bits Graves has already disclosed as well as his minor obsession with informed consent. Graves tries to apologize for not telling him, but Credence shuts that down right away and basically tells him it's okay and they don't need to discuss it again unless Graves wants to. (Very, VERY mild. There's no discussion of the actual assault, it's just alluded to very vaguely.)
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: During the above mentioned conversation, Credence very pointedly shows Graves the scars on his hand and reminds him that he's been hurt by someone he was supposed to trust. Later, while they're at a religiously-themed Christmas tree farm, Credence's childhood comes up again and he feels conflicted about liking something that his mother used as a weapon against him.
> 
> Religious crisis TW spoilers: The Christmas tree farm the Graves family frequents is highly religious in tone, with a very soft-and-fluffy view of the Christmas story (fairy lights, adorable little cherubs in the nativity sets, soft and melodic carols playing, etc.) Credence likes it, and immediately feels guilty about that because he thinks religion should scare him after the way his mother treated him. He confesses to Graves that he isn't sure what he believes anymore, but he desperately wants to believe in a benevolent spiritual force.
> 
> Sex scene spoilers: (*deep breath, can't believe I wrote this*) Credence eats Graves out in the shower, then sucks him off. It's implied that Credence was touching himself the whole time. This scene is more fleshed-out and descriptive than the second, in which the narrative briefly states that Graves pins Credence to the bed and rides him. (But LOOK GUYS in my defense they've JUST started doing this and they are Really Hot For Each Other okay?)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY YOU GUYS I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN FOR IT TO TAKE THIS LONG
> 
> In my defense...1) nursing school, 2) kinktober, 3) OCTober and I wanna write Halloween stuff and this chapter is mostly Christmas fluff XP
> 
> Quick note re: new characters - Josh and Adam are not OCs. Josh Aubin is Lilah's real-life bandmate from Sons of an Illustrious Father, and Adam Young is the creator/frontman of Owl City. (I needed a replacement for Ezra Miller because I reeeeally wanted the band to still be a thing, and for Lilah to still be poly in this 'verse. And tbh, I'd be quite happy if Adam replaced Ezra in SOAIF irl, as well...but we don't need to talk about that lol.)
> 
> TWs for this chapter:  
> -Grindelwald pops up at the beginning and is his usual creeptacular self  
> -Credence briefly talks about his abusive childhood, and has an emotional reaction to it  
> -Very mild religious discussions/references throughout (because Christmas)  
> -One brief reference to religion-related homophobia
> 
> See end notes for TW descriptions...but for real guys 99% of this chapter is just Epic Softness ;)

“You _what?”_

Credence couldn’t hold back an excited little quiver as he repeated in a nervous whisper, “I think…I think I might be engaged to Percy...well, sort of.”

Nagini gave a low whistle, her eyes wide and impressed. “Holy _shit,_ kid. We’ve been here what, a half-hour and drop that news _now?”_

“I mean—he didn’t _propose,_ really. But he said if I wanted him to stay forever, he would…oh, I don’t know. I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Credence. My dude. That is _not_ nothing. That is the _opposite_ of nothing. That is very definitely _something.”_

Credence had agreed to meet Nagini for some Christmas shopping while Percy was at therapy. Well, “Christmas shopping” was the official reason. What they were _really_ doing was gossiping, eating tons of samples from the specialty chocolate shops, and drooling over jewelry from Pandora and Swarovski that they knew damn well they couldn’t afford.

Now they were squeezed together in a love seat at the mall Starbucks, drinking coffee and talking about Percy. “You know,” Nagini said thoughtfully, “he probably isn’t wherever he told you he’s at right now. I bet he’s ring shopping.” 

“You really think—”

“Well, if it isn’t my little friend from Ilvermorny!” a voice sounded over their heads, and Credence jumped and looked up to see Mr. Grindelwald standing beside their couch with a coffee. “I was just thinking of you this morning. Would you mind if I joined you for a bit? I was hoping to speak with you.”

It would be rude to say no, of course. “Do you mind? Just for a few minutes?” Credence asked Nagini, who shrugged and looked at Mr. Grindelwald through wary eyes. Credence quickly introduced them as Mr. Grindelwald pulled up a bistro chair, but it didn’t seem to improve her opinion of him much.

“Now, if you don’t mind my asking,” Mr. Grindelwald said when all the introductions had been made, “what exactly are you planning on doing once you get your BSN? Macusa does offer some excellent externships. You’d get to shadow a few nurses in every department, get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

Nagini shook her head. “Thanks but no thanks. Macusa’s just too much of a drive. They don’t have much of a peds unit, and I want to work with kids, so… ”

“Fair enough.” Mr. Grindelwald fixed his his eyes back on Credence. “And what say you, my boy? Would you consider it, perhaps? You could also take an informatics externship with me. You’d get a good look at the department, see how policy gets made. Would you like that, do you think?”

Credence didn’t want to be an informaticist, but instead of an outright no, he said diplomatically, “I appreciate the offer, I do, but…I think I’d like to get through another semester or two of clinicals before I decide.”

“Well, if you like, my boy, the offer is there. Wherever you choose to work you will be wonderful, I’m sure. Now…” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial little smile, “May I ask how things are going with your gentleman friend?”

“Oh! Um. He’s…we’re okay. We’re good. Great, actually,” Credence stammered.

“Not too much fallout from the other day, I hope? My husband does like a good professional scrap as much as the next doctor, but he really does have the utmost respect for your Dr. Graves, I assure you.”

“I was…a little upset,” Credence admitted, wondering why on earth Mr. Grindelwald was bringing this up. “I’ve never heard him shout like that before.”

“Oh, you’ve not seen him at work, have you,” Mr. Grindelwald chuckled. “There _is_ a reason for Dr. Graves’ fearsome reputation, you know. The walls of his office are fairly painted with the tears of students and interns.”

Nagini snorted. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t know him at all.” She didn’t know Percy firsthand either, but Credence appreciated her sticking up for him.

“Oh, I know him well enough,” Mr. Grindelwald told her. He Credence a slow, deliberate once-over. “If you have a clinical in his department, you’ll see. He does not tolerate error. I’d advise treading _very_ lightly with him, Credence.”

Credence suddenly felt uncomfortable,. He almost got the feeling that Mr. Grindelwald was…trying to make him dislike Percy, maybe? Or that he was trying to…no. That look meant nothing, he was married, there was no way…

“We need go go,” Nagini said suddenly. “Thanks for the advice, but we’re done here.” Once they were safely out of earshot she said, “What on _earth_ was that?”

“No idea,” Credence admitted. “I’d say he was flirting, but…but he’s _married.”_

“Hate to tell you this, Cree, but married men flirt too.” Nagini scowled back in the direction of the Starbucks. “Please, I’m begging you, if you _have_ to work with that guy, make sure you aren’t alone with him, okay?”

“I don’t think he’d hurt me, Nagini, I really don’t—”

“Credence. For my own peace of mind, promise me you won’t be alone with him.” He did, because it seemed to mean a lot to her. Satisfied, she grabbed his hand and hurried him along. “Good. Now, we’re going to hit up Bath and Body works, and find you something that smells _really_ sexy. Rose, maybe, or vanilla. And then we’re going to get your nails done, just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case Graves proposes for real, obviously,” she said with a mischievous smile, and then laughed as Credence blushed and visibly squirmed with excitement, the odd conversation with Mr. Grindelwald already quite forgotten.

~

When he got back from the mall Percy was still nowhere to be found, so Credence wandered into the kitchen and offered to help with the baking, an offer that Tierney and Morgan gladly accepted. “Is this year special, or do you guys always go all-out?” he asked them as he drizzled icing over a very large tray of shortbread cookies.

“Oh, Christmas has always been a production in this house. Gawain was hardly as excited for the season as the rest of us…he preferred things be traditional and quiet…but the kids loved that we did all this stuff.” With a conspiratorial little grin Tierney added, “Percival may seem like something of a grump now, but you should’ve seen him then. He’d come home from college lit up like the candles on the Advent wreath.”

“What’s Advent?” Credence asked, and then cringed when he realized how ignorant he must’ve sounded.

But Tierney didn’t seem too fazed. “Oh—forgive me, dear, I forgot you wouldn’t know. I suppose you’d call it the ‘Episcopalian New Year.’ It’s supposed to be a time of preparation before Jesus is born to us on Christmas Day.”

“Percy said it’s why you wait this late to decorate for Christmas while everyone else does it, like, the day after Halloween.”

“Well, yes,” she chuckled. “The idea is to wait for Jesus’ coming, rather than celebrate it before He’s arrived. So we mark the four weeks leading up to Christmas by lighting four candles on the Advent wreath, and praying together as a family to prepare ourselves for His arrival.” She went on to explain the Advent wreath, and the meanings of the different candles (hope for the first Sunday, peace for the second, joy for the third, love for the fourth).

Credence couldn’t help but feel a little wistful as he replied, “My ma would’ve hated all this. She talked about Christmas like it was some kind of rave. ‘People turning Jesus’ birth into an excuse to be greedy and frivolous,’ that sort of thing. The idea of love and joy being associated with religion was just…totally foreign to her.”

Tierney put a sugar-dusted hand over his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Were you raised Calvinist, dear?”

“I have no idea. Google ‘puritans’ and whatever comes up, well, that would be Ma,” he admitted, and then laughed, completely out of place, because really, it was _funny,_ the idea of the same religion yielding two such completely different people. Ma would have absolutely despised Tierney, with her kindness and her brightly-colored Christmas trappings and her sweet-smelling kitchen. _Greed and indulgence,_ she would have said scornfully. As for the fact that the Graves family had money—well. Forget it. Ma would have exorcised the house and then beat him soundly for daring to enter it in the first place.

Tierney’s hand contracted gently over his. “I’m sorry. Are you all right? Have I upset you?”

“No, I’m okay, I think—” Credence shook his head and found, to his own horror, that his eyes were blurring. Tears. He was close to crying and it probably showed. No wonder Tierney was looking at him with such concern. For a brief moment he scolded himself— _useless boy, can’t even hold a conversation without crying like a little baby_ —and then he felt a pair of arms close around him, felt another hand resting on his back, unfamiliar fingers carding through his hair.

“There, I think he’s all right,” he heard Tierney saying softly to Morgan, who apparently had sized up the situation and thought maybe she could help. “Just needs a little love. It’s all right, Credence. We’re right here with you. Take all the time you need, my dear.”

Credence had never felt anything like this before. Ma certainly never reassured him when he was feeling sad, and he’d worked very hard at keeping his pain hidden from her and, later, from the Goldstein girls. The only one who had really held and comforted him, before now, was Percy. But this was different. This was like being comforted by a mother, and he almost felt ashamed for thinking so; this was Percy’s family, after all, not his, but that didn’t seem to matter to Tierney and Morgan.

“I’ve got you,” Tierney repeated softly when he tried to apologize again. “No shame in needing some comfort, sweetling. We don’t mind a bit.”

Was this how Percy had grown up, Credence wondered, with his mother and sister ready to pounce and shower him with love at the first sign of trouble? No wonder Percy was so sensitive and so kind, he thought idly, if _this_ was the example that had been set. “I’m okay,” he said at last, and reluctantly pulled away. “Thank you, I…I’m fine now. I don’t know why I…” He weakly gestured to indicate _I suddenly started crying for no reason._

Morgan reached out and petted his hair reassuringly. “Just needed a hug? It’s okay.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Percival would understand. He needs a hug now and then, you know, even if he pretends he doesn’t.”

Credence managed a tiny laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“As you should.” Tierney squeezed his shoulder and then briskly said, “Well, then. We’ve got work to do, haven’t we? Want to learn to make soda bread?”

“Does Percy like it?”

“Oh, that he does.” Tierney gave him a teasing little nudge. “And if you think you can charm him further by learning to cook his favorite foods…well, you’re absolutely right. Here, let me show you…”

By the time night had fallen Credence had learned to make the promised soda bread, as well as a beef stew flavored with Guinness and something called _colcannon._ Well. That was what Tierney called it; Credence snuck a taste of the cabbage-and-onion-laced mashed potato dish, blended with plentiful milk and butter, and secretly renamed it _ultimate comfort food._

Percy came back later than expected—just as they were sitting down to dinner—looking oddly triumphant. “Sorry, all. Got held up. Last minute Christmas shopping, you know how it is.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss on Credence’s cheek before he sat down beside him.

“You look like you just got away with a bank robbery,” Seamus observed. “Feel like sharing the good news?”

“No one gets to know their present until Christmas morning,” Percy said with a mysterious little smile. He nudged his knee against Credence’s under the table. “I promise you’ll be happy with it, sweetheart.”

“If you picked it out, I’m sure I will.” Credence leaned his head against Percy’s shoulder. “You were gone forever, though. Promise you won’t go anywhere without me tomorrow?”

“I promise.” Percy slipped an arm around Credence and held him close. “For the rest of the holiday, my love, you don’t have to let me out of your sight.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

“Oh, I hope you will.”

~

The last few days had felt like a beautiful dream. True to his word, Graves had spent nearly every second with Credence. They’d gone to Bronner’s, the tourist trap holiday store that Graves had loved as a child, and he didn’t even try to ignore the way his heart fluttered when he saw Credence’s eyes light up at the decorations in the Christmas wonderland. On Saturday night it had snowed, and Graves had taken special delight in teaching Credence how to make a snowman. 

Credence had taken to wearing Graves’ old sweaters, the ones he’d found in the bottom of the closet on the first night of their stay. It satisfied something deep and strong and almost primal inside Graves to see Credence wearing his clothes, to wrap his arms around Credence and feel his lover's slender body encased in something warm and soft that Graves had provided for him, to know that he was, even peripherally, making Credence feel comfortable and safe.

Even better, however, was seeing the way Credence lit up when he was allowed to do something even a little bit childish. He helped Brigid and James decorate a gingerbread house, let Graves coax him into standing in line at Bronner’s to meet “Santa Claus,” watched _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and _Home Alone_ and _The Polar Express_ with the same rapt fascination as though he were watching the Sistine Chapel being repainted. He let the little kids drag him into a snowball fight, and curled up on the couch in one of Graves’ sweaters afterwards, a mug of cocoa in his hands and a look in his eyes as if he’d just seen the face of God.

He was happy. He was safe, and warm, and well-fed, and _happy._ And every time he looked up with that expression of childlike joy on his face, every time happy tears spilled from the corner of his eyes, every time he moaned appreciatively after tasting a new Christmas cookie or traditional holiday dish, Graves fell a little more in love.

Late at night he’d unwrap his precious boy from those old sweaters like he was opening his Christmas presents early and lay him out like a feast for the taking. “I love you so much,” he whispered, the words lost in Credence’s nearly concave belly as he pressed soft, hungry kisses to the trembling flesh. “I don’t want to let you go, sweetheart. Not ever.”

And Credence would pull him back up, and hold him tight as he promised with equal gravity, “You won’t. I’m yours. Always.”

And _too soon, too soon_ would sound in Graves’ mind like an alarm, the old fear of letting himself be vulnerable rearing its ugly head, while his heart thudded out a steady _yes, yes, yes_ and urged him to give in. And afterwards, when they were tangled together in the decades-old blue bedspread, with Credence clinging to him like a teddy bear and Graves melting into a gooey mess in his arms, nothing else seemed to matter. 

It had been five days now since he’d let Credence have him for the first time, and nothing and everything had changed all at once. Graves knew now just what kind of treasure he had found the day he first looked into those beautiful brown eyes. Because no one else would let him be like _this._ No one else would let him protect them so fiercely during the day, only to turn around and completely fall apart in their arms while they were in bed. That was rare. That was _incredible._

Now Graves felt that familiar swelling of raw emotion inside him as he watched Credence dress for the Christmas Eve church service. He couldn’t help but be a little nervous; this night was full of important family traditions, yes, but more than that…well. Credence in a church? That was bound to be a minefield. Graves hadn’t forgotten what happened at the tree farm.

Credence, however, seemed more preoccupied with making a good impression. “Do you think this is too much?” he asked, turning away from the floor length mirror and pointing to the soft brown eyeliner that he’d just put on. “I don’t want to look— _oh!”_

Graves had crossed the room in two steps and pulled Credence into a tight embrace. “Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured between blazing kisses that made Credence melt into a soft, quivery mess. “So lovely, perfect, incredible, can’t believe I get to keep you…”

“Where’s— _ooh_ —where’s this coming from?” Credence protested, and then let out a keening little moan as Graves’ tongue swiped up the column of his throat. “Percy, _no,_ I don’t w-want to— _ungh_ —I don’t want t-to be all—all turned on when we g-go to church— _oh God—”_

Reluctantly, feeling more helplessly in love with him than ever, Graves slowly let Credence go. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Credence reached up and gently smoothed a lone stray hair back into place. “What’s up with you tonight?”

“Just…want to be close to you, that’s all.” Graves pulled Credence back in for one last kiss, trying not to think about what was going to happen at midnight. Or what he _hoped_ would happen at midnight, anyway.

Grace Episcopal Church was, as Brigid called it, a “fairytale church.” It looked like a picture from a storybook, and Credence seemed mesmerized by the stained glass windows, the evergreen garlands hanging from the wooden balcony, the glittering electric candles on the ends of each pew. He reached out and delicately ran his fingertips over the white satin pew bows, then guiltily pulled back.

“You can touch, love. You can do whatever you want.” Graves gently nudged Credence into the pew. “If you feel overwhelmed or upset at any point, we can go. Just say the word.”

“I’ll be okay.” Credence tilted his head against Graves’ shoulder, then thought better of it and scooted away with another furtive, guilty look around.

Graves reached out and took Credence’s hand in both of his. “You don’t have to let me touch you while we’re here,” he said quietly, “but no one is going to look sideways at us. We won’t be the only same-sex couple at this church tonight, sweetheart. I promise.”

Before Credence could say a word in reply, the choir began a soft, haunting a capella rendition of “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.” Credence, as Graves had predicted—being the sucker for both music and sentiment that he was—was instantly entranced. Even more so when, after the carol had ended, the handbell choir continued with a delicate, tinkling lullaby built around “The First Noel.”

Credence looked awed. Graves couldn’t hold back a smile. He’d always enjoyed the music at Grace, and it only made him happier now to see that it was bringing joy to someone he loved. When the choir filed in with the rest of the procession, Credence turned to Graves in shock. “But—that’s _Lilah!_ What’s she doing here?”

“Singing in the choir with one of her partners, he’s a member of the congregation and she’s not religious but she does it for his sake. Now watch, I think you’ll enjoy this…”

Graves had gone to the Christmas Eve service dozens of times, and while it had seemed thrilling to him as a kid, over time the sparkle had worn away and it became more comforting and nostalgic than magical. But seeing it through Credence’s eyes made it seem new and beautiful again. He let himself get caught up in the joy of the music, the candlelight, the oft-repeated story of Jesus’ birth.

By the time they all lit their candles and sang “Silent Night” together, Credence was leaning his head against Graves’ shoulder again. “I didn’t think it could be this…nice,” he whispered, something suspiciously wet soaking into the sleeve of Graves’ shirt.

Graves gently kissed his forehead. “Like I said, you’re allowed to have this, sweetheart. If it makes you feel good and safe, I’ll make sure you get it whenever you want. Just say the word. Father Jonas will be thrilled,” he added with a wry smile. “He’s been trying to prod me into attending regularly for years.”

Credence fell silent at that, but as they were walking back to the car after the service he said shyly, “I don’t know if I really want to…get involved yet. I like it _now_ when it’s all…sparkly and happy? But…I don’t know a whole lot about the Catholic and Anglican tradition, but I _do_ know you guys observe Lent, and…”

“And that would absolutely wreak havoc on you, wouldn’t it,” Graves finished, and Credence nodded. “Hearing about penance for sin and repentance and the forces of evil at work…yeah, can’t blame you; that used to scare the shit out of me and I didn’t have someone literally beating it into me. Tell you what—we’ll come back at Easter, when that’s all over. You think you like this place now, wait until spring…from April to June, the place is covered in flowers. You’ll love it.”

Credence leaned his head against Graves’ shoulder again as they walked. “I think I would like that, yeah.”

Graves squeezed his hand. “It’s all up to you, sweetheart. You get to decide how and when you reclaim this whole faith thing, if that’s something you want to do. In the meantime, let’s go home…you’re going to _love_ this…”

When they got back to the house they found it busting at the seams. Graves had warned Credence about the Christmas Eve party, but nothing quite prepared one for the sound of fifty voices belting out “I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In” at top volume. “Oh…they’re loud, your family,” Credence murmured as Graves pulled him to the safe haven of the kitchen. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Graves warned him with a chuckle. “Wait until Reuben has a bit more mulled wine…you can hear him clean across the street.”

He took Credence around to meet some of the extended family and their church friends. The Graves family Christmas party always took place after the nighttime mass on Christmas Eve. Half the congregation was there, and it seemed that all of them were instantly taken with Credence. Not that Graves could blame them for a second for that; it was hard not to be charmed by someone so gentle and sincere.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it,” Graves’ cousin Sarah ordered Credence with a smile. “I’ve never seen him so happy, and God knows he’s earned it.”

His uncle Joshua agreed. “You’re looking much better,” he said approvingly, bestowing upon Graves a manly whack on the back. To Credence he added, “You seem like a good kid. Just do us a favor and drag him outta that hospital a bit more often, yeah? Poor guy never does anything but work.”

“Isn’t he a nice one!” Graves’ favorite aunt, Cosette, grabbed Credence into a warm hug the second she laid eyes on him. “So handsome, too…not at all like that last dinosaur you took up with…”

Credence blushed furiously at the time, but later on he teased Graves, “So just how old _were_ your last couple of boyfriends before me? To hear your family talk, you’ve been hooking up with Stan Lee on the sly.”

Graves rolled his eyes. “It’s not that they were too old, it’s that my family didn’t like them. But never mind that. The only thing I care about right now is that they all absolutely love you, as I knew they would. Now, come on…there’s someone else I’ve been dying for you to meet.”

~

Credence let Percy lead him downstairs to the basement rec room, where a handful of the younger partygoers had congregated, including Lilah. “Ohmygod _hiiiii,”_ she giggled, launching herself at Percy for a hug. “Are you okay? I was gonna come find you. You haven’t texted in, like, days. Everything all right?”

“Better than all right, don’t worry.” Percy obligingly held her for a minute, then peeled her off and nodded to Credence. “I was hoping he could meet the rest of the band, if they’re around.”

“Oh sure, c’mon honey.” She slung an arm around Credence’s shoulders, planted a messy, Smirnoff-scented kiss on his cheek, and led him over to the squashy red sectional by the TV, which was blaring _Die Hard._ “This is _totally_ a Christmas movie,” she insisted to Credence. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“And you’re _totally_ drunk,” Percy said, rolling his eyes as he gently separated her from Credence. 

“True,” Lilah said with a shrug, as she flopped down on the couch between two men. One of them was skinny and bearded with a floppy haircut and heavy black-framed glasses. The other was short-haired and round-faced and looked almost as awkward as Credence felt. “These are my bandmates. This is Josh,” she slung an arm around the shoulders of the man with the glasses. “And _this_ ,” she affectionately nudged the other with her foot, “is Adam.”

Josh tilted his head up in a _’sup_ gesture. “Hey, man,” he said lazily, snuggling up to Lilah.

Adam, however, looked up with a shy smile and then quickly averted his eyes. Credence, immediately sensing a kindred spirit, carefully settled himself on the end of the couch beside Adam. “Hi. I’m Credence.” He jerked his head to Percy, who had perched gracefully on the couch arm. “You know Percy, right?”

Adam nodded, maintaining serious eye contact with the empty glass in his hand. “Yeah. He comes to our shows sometimes.” He briefly looked up to Percy, smiled, and then looked back down. But when Credence looked down, Adam deliberately bumped their knees together, a silent offering of friendship.

“Tonight was Credence’s first night at our church,” Percy told Adam. “I think we made a good impression.” He stood up and patted Credence’s shoulder. “You two should talk. I’m going to get a snack, do you want anything?”

Credence shook his head, half-wanting to cling to Percy or follow him away, but he trusted Percy enough to stay where he was. Lilah and Josh had fallen to sneaking not-so-subtle kisses, and Credence didn’t especially want to watch (even if they didn’t mind, it just seemed…private), so for a distraction he asked Adam, “So…you were the one in the choir, right?”

Adam nodded and, for the first time, managed to look Credence in the eyes. “Yeah. I started going there after…well…” He looked down again. “My old church kind of kicked me out.” He jerked his head over to Lilah and Josh. “They weren’t too crazy about the idea of three people in a relationship.”

Credence nodded, immediately understanding why Percy had wanted them to talk. “Yeah. I…well. You should see the church I grew up in. If my ma knew I was eng—dating—another man…it wouldn’t be pretty, let’s just leave it there.”

Adam shot him a sympathetic look. “At least we know God won’t kick us out for loving people,” he said softly.

“I’m not…I don’t know. Not really sure about…I mean. I liked the church tonight…” Credence looked around the room, groping for the right words. “I don’t know. I want to believe that, I do, but…”

Adam went quiet again, seeming to hear exactly what Credence wasn’t saying. “He’ll be there when you’re ready,” he said reflectively after a moment of silence.

“Maybe.” Credence managed a smile. “So you’re all in a band together? What instruments do you play?”

“Little bit of everything. Mostly drums, because of the three of us only I really know how. But when we record I do all the mixing and stuff.” Adam pulled out his phone and offered Credence an earbud. “I like to produce. Want to hear?”

“Sure.” Credence put in the earbud and leaned in close as Adam started up the music, and that was how Percy found them when he came back ten minutes later.

“Well, look who’s still down here,” he grinned when Credence looked up at him guiltily, an apology for not being more social already on his lips. “Oh, no. This is exactly what I was hoping for. I knew you two would get along.”

Lilah detached herself from Josh. “If you get bored with him,” she told Credence playfully, nodding to Percy, “you can always come join us.”

“An appealing offer,” Credence said with a laugh, recognizing an icebreaker when he heard one, “but I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.” He nudged Adam’s knee with his, the way Adam had done to him. “Thanks for letting me listen to your music. I like it. You’re good.”

Adam perked up. “You think so? Thanks. Come to one of our shows sometime?”

“Of course.” Credence looked up to Percy. “Can I stay down here, or are there more people you want me to meet?”

“Stay here as long as you like, sweetheart.” Percy leaned forward to drop a kiss on his forehead. “Let me know if you get tired or if you need anything, okay?” he whispered, and waited for Credence’s nod before he went and sat on the opposite end of the sectional to chat with Lilah and Josh.

Credence half-wanted to pull out his phone and send a group-chat text to all of the Goldstein family plus his therapist. _I made a new friend! That’s my second one since I’ve started school! Congratulate me, I’m not completely defective!_

Instead he focused on Adam again. “So…you from around here?” he asked, and Adam’s shyness slowly but surely began to melt away as he told Credence about his hometown in Minnesota.

~

Percy’s family, as it turned out, really liked to party. By the time everyone but immediate family had left, it was after eleven and Credence was exhausted. “We can go upstairs now, right?” he said hopefully after he’d waved goodbye to Adam. “Go to bed, maybe?”

Percy smiled and gave him a little squeeze. “Not yet, sweetheart. One more little family tradition, and then we can go upstairs.”

The tradition, as it turned out, was to gather around the tree and have each family member open one present at midnight. “The first gifts of Christmas,” James informed him seriously, as his sister made herself at home between Credence and Percy. “Just like in _The Polar Express.”_

Seamus scooped him up and settled down on Credence’s other side, his son in his lap. “Old Graves started it when Morgy and your fella were tiny,” he added. “Guess it was some way to keep the kids from waking everyone up at dawn to rip into their new toys.”

“That it was,” Tierney admitted with a laugh. “But it’s evolved. It’s more of a way to wind down together after the party, have some time just as a family.” She turned to Percy. _“A stóirín,_ did you want to start us off tonight?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Mum, didn’t I tell you I’m too old for you to call me that?”

“Oh, you know quite well you’ll always be my baby. Now, didn’t you tell me you wanted to—”

“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.” Percy leaned down and whispered in Brigid’s ear, and she obediently hopped off the couch, went to retrieve a tiny box wrapped in purple paper from under the tree, and brought it back to Percy. He took it and gave her a hug. “Thank you, little one. Go see mummy now, all right?”

“Good luck, Uncle Percy,” she said, surprisingly solemn, and went to snuggle up to Morgan.

“Good luck?” Credence repeated, arching his eyebrows at his boyfriend. “Is there a lottery ticket in there?”

Percy laughed shakily. “Well…it kind of feels like that, actually.” He took a deep breath. “This is for you, sweetheart…if you want it,” he said seriously, catching Credence’s eye as he pressed the tiny gift box into his hand.

Credence untied the sheer white ribbon and peeled back the paper, feeling every eye in the room on him the whole time. He would have felt anxious—even if he liked Percy’s family, he still didn’t like when people stared at him—but some part of him already understood. He was pretty sure he knew what he’d find in the tiny gift box—the _jewelry box_ —and somewhere in the back of his mind he could imagine the question that he knew would come after he opened it.

And he already knew what his answer would be. Had known it for a long time now, no matter what Tina or anyone else might say about it.

Sure enough, when he flipped open the lid to the white Pandora box he only had the briefest chance to see the blue-and-silver ring inside before he was distracted by Percy sliding off the couch and kneeling in front of him, taking Credence’s left hand and clasping it between both of his. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Credence thought, _I’m glad Nagini made me get my nails done._ It was such a random thought that a giggle bubbled up out of him, and he felt tears come to his eyes. His heart fluttered as it sank in that this was really happening.

“They always make this look so easy in the movies,” Percy said, his voice breaking as he tried to force a laugh. He looked up, and Credence was not at all surprised to see that his eyes were wet too. “I know it’s soon. But I also know I’m never going to feel like this about anyone else, and I…God, I hope I’m not wrong, but I think you feel it too, don’t you?”

Credence nodded mutely, not trusting himself with words at the moment. _It’s you, it’s always been you, I could never want anyone else,_ he thought as Percy let go with one hand and fumbled for the box. This time Credence got a better look at the ring: a thin, textured silver band set with a deep-blue stone. The exact one, in fact, that Credence had mooned over when he went to the mall with Nagini.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” Percy squeezed his hand tight and held up the ring box with an air of reverent desperation, as if he were offering a sacrifice to God. “Credence…will you please, _please_ marry me?”

There was a long pause while Credence tried to get enough air into his lungs to answer the question. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed midnight, the delicate sound as loud as a gong in the breathless silence. But now Credence felt no pressure, no fear. He knew everyone else in the room was watching, but it didn’t matter. The world had shrunk down to just him and Percy, just like it had when they’d shared their first kiss.

His throat was closed up tight, but after a few short, eager gasps he finally managed to get out his answer, and he wasn’t sure exactly what he said but it must have (thank God!) been some form of _yes,_ because the next thing he knew the pretty silver ring was on his finger and Percy was kissing him like he’d never get another chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Credence's engagement ring](https://us.pandora.net/dw/image/v2/AAVX_PRD/on/demandware.static/-/Sites-pandora-master-catalog/default/dw20713023/productimages/main/198867C12_RGB.JPG?sw=1000&sh=1000&sm=fit&sfrm=png&bgcolor=F5F5F5)!!!!! ^_^
> 
> Grindelwald TW spoilers: Grindelwald briefly shows up and speaks to Nagini and Credence at the mall. He obliquely references that he and Graves once dated, and implies that Graves will hurt Credence. Uncomfortable with the whole thing, Nagini quickly gets Credence out of there. No reference to assault, no interaction between assailant and survivor. Just Grindelwald being his generic asshole self.
> 
> Childhood trauma TW spoilers: Credence talks to Tierney about Advent and Christmas and mentions that his mother would've hated the way the Graves family celebrate the holidays. He reflects that his mother would have punished him for even talking to Tierney, which makes him cry. Tierney and Morgan promptly come to the rescue with hugs and tell him it's okay. (It's actually Super Soft, but the allusions to child abuse are there, so. Just in case.)
> 
> Faith/religion TW spoilers: Credence continues to toy with the idea of going back to church. He is completely enchanted by the warmth and friendliness of Graves' church, but admits to Graves that he isn't ready to deal with the "darker," heavier side of faith and ultimately decides to wait to go back. He meets Adam, a practicing Christian and member of Graves' liberal church, at the Graves family Christmas party and they talk about it briefly; Adam reveals that his former church kicked him out for dating a man and a woman at the same time, and Credence confides that his mother would have done the same if she knew about him and Graves.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!!!!!!
> 
> I have missed this story more than I can tell, y'all. Kinktober was a...mostly...good time, but I've missed my Nursing Boys <3 <3 <3
> 
> On a fun note...passed my final simulation! It was the last massive hurdle between me and graduation; from here on out it'll just be a question of getting the last couple of papers turned in and showing up to class, lol. ;) Only 1.5 more months before I'm officially a BSN! :D
> 
> Now. With that having been said...strap in guys, this chapter is a rollercoaster.
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -Massive, MASSIVE one for past discussions of rape--yes, as in multiple discussions  
> -Multiple discussions of mental health issues, both past and current (anxiety and panic attacks, mostly)  
> -PTSD, both discussions of it and a fairly blatant depiction of it  
> -Reference to child abuse
> 
> See end notes for spoilers, as usual, and please please PLEASE proceed with caution this time guys, the TW list is short but I'm not kidding when I say this one Gets Heavy

For three days nothing could penetrate the cloud of pure cotton-candy happiness that surrounded the pair of them. Three days of Tierney and Morgan slipping wedding magazines under their door, of Reuben eagerly offering up the diner for a rehearsal dinner, of Seamus teasing them endlessly and Brigid following them around the house and asking for “Uncle Credence” to read her a story before bed. Christmas Day had been beautiful chaos, with the extended family who came over treating it as a spontaneous engagement party. Even Queenie and Jacob came by to offer hugs and well-wishes (and some delicious snowflake cookies).

And for three days, Graves could absolutely, deliciously ignore everything that was facing him back at work. He could focus exclusively on Credence, on making sure he was happy and safe and had everything he could want. He could drive Credence to his second therapy session and breathe a sigh of relief when he came out looking calm and happy, rather than the teary mess he’d been after the last time. He could forget about Dumbledore’s arrogance and manipulative bullshit and just bask in the comforting knowledge that Credence was _his,_ that his sweet boy had said _yes_ and that no one in the world could ever take that away from him. From _both_ of them.

Of all the lovers Graves had had over the years, only Credence seemed to not think that his vulnerability was at odds with his possessive streak. Only Credence seemed to find nothing odd about the duality of wearing Graves’ sweaters and being hand-fed and cuddled and spoiled by him in daylight, only to turn around and completely take him apart in bed. Credence was so gentle, and so _sweet,_ but he was as eager to hold and protect as he was content to be held and protected.

Other partners, upon learning what he liked in bed, had seemed to hold an unspoken expectation that he would “be the girl” (and oh, how Graves _hated_ that, the assumption and the common phrase), but not Credence…and wasn’t it funny, really, that the first person to truly love him and treat him as an equal, was a boy fifteen years his junior whom most people would’ve assumed just wanted Graves as a sugar daddy?

So for the first few days after Christmas everything was perfect and beautiful and nothing hurt. And then came the first blow, as they were getting dressed for a double date with Tina and Newt. Graves already knew _that_ would be a minefield, but Newt’s Christmas present for the pair of them had been tickets to a Trans Siberian Orchestra concert, and who that was, precisely, Graves had no idea, but Credence had been so thrilled he almost felt he had no choice but to agree. Besides, Newt had gone on a ski trip with Tina for the holidays to get her out of an awkward Christmas dinner with his family, so Graves was eager to see him.

He was knotting his tie in the mirror while Credence, already dressed and ready, sat on the bed and messed with his phone. “Oh,” he said out of the blue, “I finally have my clinical assignment for next semester. I’m at Macusa again, on 8-East, cardiac stepdown…and someone called R.J. Lupin is my clinical instructor.”

Graves’ heart sank. “That’s my unit,” he told Credence, carefully keeping his voice steady, and his stomach twisted when Credence’s head snapped up, his eyes glowing as if Graves had just given him an extra Christmas present. “And I know Lupin. We’re hardly best friends, but he’ll treat you better than Lockhart.”

At least he would, Graves thought grimly as he fished out his scorpion tie pins and jabbed them viciously through his collar, until the whole goddamn floor found out that evil mean Dr. Graves was forcing an innocent baby nursing student to marry him, probably at gunpoint. Then all hell would break loose.

“Percy,” Credence said a few moments later, as Graves was losing a battle with his hair gel and comb, “how well do you know the CNIO? His name is Mr. Grindelwald and he wants me to intern for him—oh, I’m sorry, here—”

At the sound of _his_ name coming out of Credence’s mouth, Graves had dropped the tube of gel on the floor. Credence scrambled over and grabbed it before Graves could bend down. “Thanks. Um. Not well,” Graves lied as he took the tube back. “I work more with his husband than him. Why, did you take it?”

“No, but…e said something when Nagini and I ran into him at the mall…oh, this is so stupid…” Suddenly Credence’s eyes were very serious. “Percy, I know you don’t like to talk about it, but what happened at Macusa? Everyone talks about you like you’re some kind of monster and I don’t know why.”

Graves sighed heavily and paced the room as he explained, “When I started at Macusa…well, it was not a good time for me, at all. I tried to just grit my teeth and deal, which was a terrible decision because I ended up hurting people with my mistakes. I don’t ever want to do that again. So I’ve tried to make up for it.”

Credence got up and planted himself in Graves’ path, forcing him to stop pacing. “But why would that make everyone say such awful things about you?”

“Because when I’m there, I’m there to do a job, not make friends,” Graves told him bluntly. “They expect me to make nice and play politics, and I won’t. Especially not if I think a patient is at risk. And if you’re going to work in my unit you may as well know now, you won’t be an exception to that. If I think you’re about to hurt someone, believe me, I’ll let you know.”

Credence nodded and assured him, “I’d be pretty upset if you didn’t. But wait…they don’t like you because you’re protective of your patients? _Really?”_

“No. They think I have no right to be protective because I messed up at first.” 

“Oh.” Credence led Graves over to the bed and they sat down together. “You really hate Dr. Dumbledore, don’t you. And Mr. Grindelwald, too.”

 _“Hate_ is not the right word.” Graves sighed and rested his head on Credence’s shoulder. “I know I sound like a jealous boyfriend right now, but Grindelwald is…he is not a good man. He seems kind and generous, but trust me, he isn’t. He never does anything for anyone, unless he gets something out of it.”

For a moment he almost told the truth. Credence certainly deserved to know, he thought, a little desperately. He should say it, shouldn’t he? _He assaulted me, and every day I have to work the same building, sometimes the same fucking room, as the person who did that to me, and he will never suffer any consequences. And I think Dumbledore knows, or at least suspects, and he won’t say anything either, because that’s just how it goes. A culture of silence, and I’m fucking complicit._

Yes, he thought, his heart breaking apart in his chest, Credence needed to know what the man was truly capable of. But he couldn’t get the words out. All he could say was, “He uses people, Credence. I know it’s hard to believe, because he seems so good, but trust me, he—he is—he is _heartless._ He will hurt you, if he thinks he stands to gain something from it.”

Credence silently processed that. Then he said tentatively, “Nagini doesn’t like him either. She made me promise I would never be alone with him.”

“Nagini is a smart girl and you should listen to her.” Graves lifted his head and looked earnestly into Credence’s eyes, fighting back nausea as he said, “Listen, I won’t forbid you from going near him, because if you keep having clinical at Macusa you can’t avoid him. And if you want any kind of future at that hospital, he’s certainly someone you don’t want to cross. But oh, Credence, please, _please_ be careful.”

Credence laced his fingers through Graves’ and gently brought his hand to his mouth. “I’ll stay as far away from him as I can,” he promised softly.

Graves sighed deeply and leaned into Credence’s arms. “Thank you,” he breathed. “And even if you can’t avoid him…just be safe, love. That’s all I ask.” Credence held him close, oh so gently, and lightly stroked the back of his neck, and it still wasn’t enough to quell the ache in Graves’ heart.

_I’m not a good man either, or I would tell you everything._

~

The minute they got to the Palace and saw Newt and Tina, Graves couldn’t stop himself from walking forward straight into the embrace that Newt offered him. Attuned to each other as they were, Newt immediately read that something was wrong in the way Graves quietly clung to him and whispered, “Let me make an excuse. We can go talk.” He waited for Tina to accept a hug from Graves as well before he said, “I’m going to steal this one for a quick drink before the concert.”

“Oh,” Graves began with a guilty, stolen look at Credence. “I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Credence interrupted him immediately. “Go on, go bro-down or whatever. Tina and I can go get a pretzel or something, can’t we?” 

“Of course.” Tina slipped a sisterly arm around Credence’s shoulders. “You two cavemen go pound your chests…we’ll go dish about you two like girlfriends do,” she quipped, and Newt (who was the least caveman-like man Graves had ever met) blushed while Credence just laughed. “Come on,” Tina added as she led Credence away, “I want to hear all about the proposal…”

“So I see she’s not too cross with me,” Graves remarked as he and Newt headed for the beer kiosk. “Has she come around, then?”

“I don’t think she likes it any more than she did last week, no. But she’s willing to pretend for Credence’s sake, and I think she’s afraid she’ll drive you away again if she says anything about it.” Newt ordered them two beers and pulled Graves off to the side while they were waiting for it to be ready. “Now talk. What happened? Is it about the engagement? Did your family take it badly?”

“No, it’s—” Graves took a deep breath. “Credence knows,” he said quickly. “He knows—well. Not everything. But he managed to work out after we slept together that I—that I was—”

“Taken advantage of?” Newt supplied gently.

Graves nodded, relieved at not having to say the word, and gladly accepted the beer Newt handed him. He took a long, fortifying drink and went on, “So, he knows. But here’s the thing…” He went on to explain that he couldn’t spit out just who it was who had hurt him, and all the complications that might cause.

Newt, as always, heard him out and then asked, “So what, do you think if you tell him, it’ll magically spread through the hospital like wildfire?”

“No, I don’t, but there’ll be…problems. Credence is…well, he won’t be able to pretend. If he knows what Grindelwald did, he’ll…” He sighed and shook his head. “He’ll get protective, it’s what he does.”

“Just like you,” Newt observed softly.

“Yeah, well. He’s smarter than me, he’ll try to hide it and he won’t be able to, and Grindelwald is…professionally interested, he’s offered Credence an internship…”

“Did he take it?” Newt asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh God no. He doesn’t want to be in informatics, he wants to work the floor, thank God…but he’s on Grindelwald’s radar now, is my point.” Graves sighed heavily. “So, I’m sitting on information that could either save him, or break him. If he knows and acts on it, it’ll get him in trouble; if he goes in blind, well…”

Newt nodded slowly. “I see. And of course this ethical dilemma has nothing to do with the fact that you’re terrified that he’ll judge you for not speaking up.” Graves winced and took another gulp of beer to hide his face. Newt noticed, of course. “Graves, that man loves you with everything he’s got. You cannot possibly be afraid this will somehow make him _stop.”_

“And if I am?” Graves challenged him. “What does that make me, then, weak?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. You know I don’t think of you that way.” Newt shot him a dirty look, the effect of which was immediately softened by the gentle hand he laid on Graves’ shoulder. “But I do think you have your soft spots just like the rest of us. Just admit it: your worst nightmare would be to disappoint him.” When Graves didn’t say anything, again, Newt sighed and shook his head. “So, what would you tell me to do if our places were reversed? Be honest, now.”

“I’d have told you to tell Tina the truth the minute you found out Grindelwald was sniffing around,” Graves admitted. “And I’d be furious at you for holding out on her, probably. But it’s not like—I _hate_ that I can’t just—God, Newt, you _must_ know I’m not just trying to avoid a tough conversation, it’s not like that.”

Newt reassuringly stroked his back. “I know. I do. Listen, would it help or hurt if I offered to…well, I don’t know. I can’t just tell him myself, but what if I were there when you told him?”

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. And again I say, you know if our places were reversed you’d do the same.” Newt drew him into a gentle hug, and Graves gratefully sank into the comforting contact. “I’ve always got your back, old friend,” he murmured into Graves’ ear over the noise of the arena. “You’re never alone. You know that.”

“Thank you,” Graves replied, his throat tight. He held on for another minute, then reluctantly let go. “Just—one thing. Not tonight. Soon, yes, but not tonight. He’s been looking forward to this. I don’t want to spoil it.”

“Of course not. Come on, let’s go back to our loves, then…the rest of the night should be something more cheerful, I think. You’ll be pleased when you hear this…at least, I’m fairly sure you will…”

The concert was…loud. The strobe lights gave Graves a headache, and the band was skilled, but the music was just too “metal” for his taste. But Credence was in heaven, letting out tiny gasps of excitement every time they played one of his favorite songs…and that, Graves decided, was well worth a little headache.

Afterwards, they went to dinner together, settling on the fast-food place closest to the concert venue. After they’d gotten their food and piled into a booth, Newt slipped an arm around Tina and squeezed her close. “So, we have some important news,” he began, and then all at once his eyes welled up and spilled over and Graves just— _knew._

Credence saw too, and his eyes went wide, a tiny gasp slipping out as his hands flew up to cover his mouth. “Oh my God,” he breathed. “Tina, are you—?”

She nodded, and then started to laugh. “I know—it’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“How far along are you?” Credence asked eagerly. “When did you find out?”

“Almost thirteen weeks. It took me forever to work it out, I thought I was losing my mind. I didn’t tell Newt at first, I was afraid it was just stress or whatever, and when I finally went to the doctor and she told me, I thought it was impossible, I mean, I’m thirty-eight…well, anyway…Jacob and Queenie and Newt’s family all know. Technically you two are last to find out, but only barely.”

“There’s going to be some changes,” Newt added with a sheepish little grin. “I, uh. I may or may not be your newest roommate, Credence.”

Credence lit up like the Christmas decorations. “Really? Cool!”

“Considering you still call him Dr. Scamander half the time, I figured that’d be a big adjustment,” Tina teased Credence, reaching across the table to give his arm a friendly squeeze. To Graves she added, “And I figured I’d better warn you now, there are a _lot_ of parties in your future. Queenie’s on overload…I could just about see her planning a baby shower in her head as I told her I was pregnant…and she was looking at wedding stuff on Pinterest when I left.”

Graves had to laugh. “Oh good lord.” He nudged Credence in the side. “Let’s talk about eloping later. So, when’s the baby due, then?”

“June twenty-second.” Newt couldn’t seem to let go of Tina for the life of him. “I still can’t quite believe it. I thought Tina was joking when she told me.

“I thought he was gonna pass out,” Tina added with a giggle. “Took me forever to convince him I was serious…”

It was exactly what Graves needed, he reflected as the conversation continued to unfold, complete with the most ridiculous discussion of baby names he’d ever heard which made Credence laugh so hard he choked on his milkshake. Graves had badly needed some good news tonight, some reminder that the world wasn’t as awful as he’d thought it might be.

And then at the end of the meal, another bombshell was dropped. Tina reached across the table, took Graves’ hand in one of hers and Credence’s with her other, and said in a tone that left no room for argument, “If you two are willing…we would like you to be godparents.”

Newt nodded eagerly, while Credence sputtered incoherently and Graves just about swallowed his own tongue. “You…what now?”

Credence choked once more and then found his voice. “I don’t think I could do any kind of, um, religious education…I mean, Tina, you _know_ I couldn’t—”

“No, no,” she cut in quickly, soothingly brushing her thumb across the back of his hand. “No, Credence, honey, that’s not what I meant.”

Newt quickly explained, “We aren’t getting the baby baptized, Tina doesn’t want to and I don’t much care about pleasing my parents. We mean ‘godparents’ in the civil context…you’d care of the baby if something should happen to us.”

“Oh.” Credence turned to Graves with tears in his eyes. “Do you think…could we? Do you want to?”

Graves’ heart had crawled into his throat and then melted into a gooey mess. In hindsight, he should have known it was coming; he and Newt had been best friends for…God, he’d lost count, at least fifteen years…but Tina hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he’d spoken to her about proposing. But now…now she was looking at him with a soft, fond expression that spoke volumes. _I understand,_ it said. _I respect you for doing this the way you feel it needed to be done. I’m still your friend. I’m still here for you. Will you be here for me, too?_

“I’d be thrilled,” was the only answer he could give, and Tina did something very un-Tina-like in reply: she jumped out of her seat, came around to his side of the booth, and gave him a hug that just about knocked him over flat.

~

The difference between Credence’s first day of nursing school and his first day of second semester classes could not have felt more different. For one thing, he had friends in school now, and instead of nervously looking around for a seat, he could walk right up to the back center row and sit with Nagini, and know that she’d be there if he needed her. For another, he had a therapist now who could help him figure out how to stave off anxiety attacks—okay, so he’d only had two sessions with her, but just knowing he was getting help made him feel better.

And of course, it didn’t hurt at all that he was coming back with that ring on his finger, a tangible reminder that he was wanted and loved and that no one, _no one,_ in this school could take that away from him.

So he went off to his first day of critical care clinicals feeling much more “ready” than he had on his last first day of clinicals, and it took him about two minutes into pre-conference to decide that he really, _really_ liked Professor R.J. Lupin.

“This is going to be a very intense clinical,” he warned them at the beginning. “So for the first day, we’re going to take it easy, just get you oriented here. But I want to get this out of the way now: if you don’t know what needs to be done, _ask._ You’ll have a little more freedom this semester, but you’re still learning and there is _no shame_ in needing some guidance, all right?”

Oh, Credence liked him, he liked him _a lot._ He just prayed it lasted; Professor Lupin almost seemed too good to be true. And seeing the intensity of the cardiac unit didn’t help…wouldn’t he be held to higher standards now? He’d had so little instruction at clinical in his first semester, what if he didn’t know enough?

They were done with the tour and orientation by lunchtime, and Professor Lupin said they were welcome to stay and eat with him before they went home. The whole group stayed, but most of the others left when they were done eating. Credence stayed late, as did Nagini and Neville, and he was glad he did. Lupin turned out to be an actual wizard when it came to interpreting EKGs, and he even had a pad of graph paper in his briefcase, so he spent a good hour tracing out different patterns and showing them all kinds of mnemonics to remember what the different heartbeats meant.

“Thank you,” Nagini said as they all stood up and collected their trash. “I’ve never been able to read one of those things before.”

“Well, you’re only a few days in, give it time,” Lupin reminded her. “By the end of this clinical, you’ll all be doing this in your sleep. These things are never as scary as they seem, I promise.” Lupin gave them an indulgent smile and added, “Trust me, it’s just like any other kind of exercise. You get stronger without realizing it until one day, you wake up able bench-press twice what you used to.”

Credence hung back a little as the other two left, with the hope and intention of saying something nice (something memorable, preferably) to his new, very kind teacher. But Lupin surprised him instead: “Credence, isn’t it? I was hoping to get you alone, but I didn’t want to call you back in front of your classmates.”

“Oh.” Anticipation and admiration immediately turned to anxiety. Had Lockhart told Lupin about all of Credence’s alleged misdeeds the previous semester?

“Nothing bad,” Lupin quickly assured him, correctly interpreting the look of dread that Credence apparently hadn’t been able to hide. “Now, when she put you in my group, Dr. Picquery told me you had a little difficulty in your clinical last semester. Particularly with codes. Want to tell me about that?”

Credence bit his lip. “I…couldn’t handle it,” he admitted. “I. Um. I kind of…may have…” Lupin looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, “Okay, I passed out. But it wasn’t because of the…I can handle death, all right? I worked at a nursing home. I want to go into hospice. I didn’t lose it because he died.”

“Why did you, then?” Lupin prompted him gently. “It’s okay. There are no wrong answers here.”

“I think…I think it was because it just…it was sudden. And violent.” Credence shuddered a little at the memory. “But listen, I swear I don’t make a habit of fainting at work. It was—that was—”

“Shock,” Lupin finished, mercifully cutting of his babbling. “That was shock. And absolutely no one except Gilderoy Lockhart could’ve blame you for it.”

“Yeah, that’s what Per—Dr. Graves said.” Credence couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the much-more pleasant shock that had followed _that_ discussion.

Lupin, however, raised his eyebrows in clear surprise. “Dr. Graves? As in, Percival Graves, cardiac DNP? He was present at your code?”

“Oh—he heard about it later. He wasn’t there while Cedric was coding, no.” And it was lucky, too, Credence reflected, or Dr. Lockhart may well have ended up getting punched through the wall. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Point is, you’re like, the third person to tell me that…you’d think I’d be over it by now…”

Lupin held up a hand. “Stop right there. It’s not about ‘getting over it.’ I just want to know if there’s a chance it’ll happen again.” And when Credence flailed for an answer he added, “It’s all right, Credence. This is not a trick. I’m really just trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Honestly? I—I don’t know,” he admitted, his throat closing with the confession. “It—it _might._ but I’m in therapy now,” he added hopefully, almost desperately. “I’m getting better at controlling my panic attacks, I just…can’t…always.”

“That’s all right. And if you’re getting help, that’s something to be proud of,” Lupin assured him, and the knot of tension inside Credence loosened a little: here was someone like Percy, someone who _understood._ “But for now, let’s get out of here, I’m sure you have studying to do.”

Credence was about to thank him when he saw a very familiar figure coming towards them. “Oh,” he said, surprised; he’d forgotten that Percy worked today, that he’d changed his schedule to accommodate Credence’s clinical days. Percy, however, was not looking at him. He was looking at Professor Lupin, and not at all fondly, in fact, he looked as if he were contemplating running for the exit. 

When he saw Percy, Professor Lupin said in an aggressively pleasant voice, quite unlike the gentle tone he’d used a moment ago, “And _this_ is Dr. Graves, Credence…he _should_ have been on the cardiac floor this morning, but I suppose he must’ve had urgent business elsewhere.”

Percy immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t see what business it is of yours if I had multiple procedures to oversee today. Didn’t really expect you to notice I was gone, given that you’re about as observant as a brick wall.”

“If I had failed to recognize a highly symptomatic case of unstable angina, Dr. Graves, I wouldn’t dream of calling other practitioners unobservant,” Lupin replied coolly.

Percy’s face turned bright red. He took a step back, his hands clenching into fists. “I see, dragging up old history now, are we,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now you’re just being mean. And in front of a student, too. What a fine example to set. Did dear old _Al_ teach you that?” he demanded.

“None of that, now,” Lupin warned him quietly. “You know how I feel about your very childish grudge against Dr. Dumbledore.”

 _Have I missed something here?_ Credence wondered, as his boyfriend and teacher eyed each other with barely-veiled hostility. Lupin didn’t seem like the type to pick fights, and Credence had never seen Percy be this rude to anyone.

Percy, ever attentive, nodded to Credence. “You’re upsetting your student. I suggest you stop before you make things worse.”

“Once again, the pot calls the kettle black. I warn you now, Dr. Graves, if I hear tell of you making the students cry, I will not hesitate to step in.”

“Oh here we go again, Lupin is the hero and the rest of us just have to abide—”

“Stop it!” Credence protested before he could stop the words from coming out. Both men looked at him in surprise. “Please don’t fight,” he murmured, looking down at the floor and desperately wishing it would swallow him up.

He half expected things to escalate. Instead Percy said, very gently, “It’s all right, Credence,” Credence just about cried: _this_ was the Percival Graves he knew. “I won’t let it happen again. Well—I’ll do my best, anyway.”

Credence almost laughed out of sheer relief. But when he looked up, the shock on his professor’s face wiped away his smile. “You two?” Lupin said, more disbelief in those two syllables than Credence would have ever thought possible.

“You won’t hold that against him, will you?” Percy asked him quietly.

“I’d never dream of taking out our—disagreements—on a student, Graves, you know that.” Suddenly Lupin sounded tired. “You do know I don’t actually _want_ to fight with you, don’t you? And for what it’s worth Albus only ever has kind things to say about you.”

“I told you I have my reasons for not trusting him. Why can’t that be enough? Does a man have to kiss Dumbledore’s feet before you’ll take him seriously?” Percy sighed heavily and shook his head. “Credence, love, I need a break, it’s been a hell of a day. Are you done with clinical? Do you want to join me?”

“Yes, of course I will. Go find a table. I’ll be right there.”

When Percy had left, Lupin sighed and turned back to Credence. “He’s not hurting you, is he?”

“What? No!” Credence couldn’t help but scowl. “Why were you guys all alpha male-y? Because Percy doesn’t like working for Dr. Dumbledore and you do?”

“Very astute,” Lupin said dryly. “When you’ve been on the cardiac floor a little while, you’ll see…Albus is a _fantastic_ doctor. He’s good to the patients, he’s good with the interns and the students…Dr. Graves just has decided not to like the man, for what reason I can’t say.”

Credence recalled the fight he’d witnessed before Christmas break. “It’s not my business,” he said. “I just want to make sure I’m not going to…” _Have another clinical teacher who dumps on me,_ he thought but didn’t say.

“When we’re on the floor, as far as I know you and Dr. Graves are nothing more than DNP and student nurse,” Lupin promised.

Satisfied, Credence bade him good-bye and went back to the seating area to find Percy. “Could you _please_ not fight with your coworkers in front of me again?”

Percy winced a little as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that. Or the fight with Dumbledore before Christmas…God, I’m sorry,” he repeated, scowling down at his coffee cup as if it had caused the fights.

Credence was a little worried about Percy, truth be told. He’d been happy for most of break, but on New Year’s Day they had both gone back to work—Percy on the floor, Credence at the pharmacy—and Percy had been fine on the way in, but on the drive home that evening he’d seemed extremely unhappy and tense. Credence tried to reassure him, but Percy had impatiently pushed him away, and it was hard not to take it personally.

“Percy,” Credence said quietly, and Percy looked up, a heartbreaking look on his face. Credence knew the _I know you’re about to scream at me and I can take it_ face; he’d worn it a hundred times a week when he was living with Mary Lou. “You didn’t really see your therapist that week, did you, when I was at your parents’ house.”

“No,” Percy admitted. “He’s been out of town, just got back this week. I was getting that.” He nodded to Credence’s engagement ring.

“Will you see him this week? You promise? It’s just…I really hate seeing you like this.” Credence reached across the table and gently took both of Percy’s hands in his. “I haven’t seen you eat anything the last few times we’ve been together,” he pointed out, and gestured to the coffee and small blueberry muffin in front of Percy. “I really don’t think that counts as a nutritious lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” Percy made the mistake of looking up in time to catch Credence’s _really?_ look and sighed heavily. “All right, yes, I concede that’s a problem. And you’re right. I do have an appointment with him on Monday, if that makes you feel better.”

“I want _you_ to feel better…is there anything I can do?”

Percy sighed again and squeezed his hands. “Yeah, actually, there’s something I need you to do for me. Can we…oh God, this is going to sound so strange, I’m sorry…”

“I did a pelvic exam on a mannequin yesterday, it can’t be any weirder than that,” Credence said without thinking, but was immensely thankful when it made Percy laugh, really laugh, for what felt like the first time in days. “I’m serious! I really, really hope I never have to do that in real life, it was…” Credence shuddered theatrically, making Percy laugh even harder. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he added, “All right, fine. I get it, I’m a prude. What allegedly weird thing do you want me to do?”

Percy’s laughter immediately dried up. He withdrew his hands and nervously toyed with his coffee stirrer as he chewed his bottom lip—a nervous habit, Credence noted with some degree of exasperation, that Percy had picked up from him. “I want the two of us to have dinner with Newt tomorrow,” he finally spit out. “If you could stay with me tonight, if you don’t mind…I’ll take you in tomorrow and we’ll go back to my place the minute you’re done to meet him…we could order in from Ping On, I know you like their food…is that okay?”

He looked so anxious there could only be one answer. “Of course it’s okay.”

Percy exhaled, long and slow, which would have sounded like a sigh of relief had his face not looked more tense and lined than ever. Credence got up and went to sit beside Percy. He reached up to smooth a lock of hair out of his eyes, but Percy cringed away. “Don’t,” he said softly, his voice almost a whine, and Credence pulled back in shock; Percy had never refused to be touched before.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Percy, please talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

“You can’t—” Percy began, and then snapped off the end of his sentence. He stood up abruptly. “I need to get back to work. Can you go to the library and wait for me, or do I need to come get you from Tina’s later?”

“I can wait for you,” Credence agreed, and couldn’t help but feel hurt when all he got in reply was a curt nod before Percy turned and walked away.

~

Credence ended up going to the pharmacy. “Need some help?” he asked, and Lilah gratefully sent him to her office to type. He didn’t have his labcoat with him so he couldn’t be seen out on the sales floor, but he could take calls and type up prescriptions and he did; having something to do took his mind off of Percy.

Lilah popped in around 2:00 for a break. “Something’s wrong,” she observed.

“Well, yeah.” He briefly told her what had happened at lunch. “And then he just walked away. I don’t know what I did, but—”

Lilah had listened intently the whole time, but now she gently cut in, “You didn’t do anything, honey.” She hesitated a moment, and then asked, “There’s no way to ask this without—well—let’s put it this way. How much has Graves told you about his…dating life…before you two started seeing each other?”

“I know he was…” Credence couldn’t make himself say the words. “I know how things—ended—with the last guy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Lilah nodded, looking immensely relieved. “Thank God. That makes this…well, not easier, but at least I don’t have to explain around it.” She sighed and sank back into her chair. “Credence…I don’t think I have to tell you how much a thing like that messes a person up.”

“I know. And he hasn’t been seeing his therapist over the holidays…I guess the guy went out of town.”

“Yeah, I should’ve known. The thing is…well, after you guys are married for a while I guess you’ll see, but…this is a pattern for Graves. He’ll be happy for a while and think he’s okay, and he’ll stop taking care of himself. He’s supposed to keep a journal, do trauma-sensitive yoga twice a week…well, like I said, you’ll find it all out when you live with him.”

“If I live with him,” Credence said unhappily, his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Hey,” Lilah said sharply, and Credence looked up, startled. “You are not going to break up. He loves you more than life itself, I promise. He’s just feeling a little fragile right now and—like I said, the thing Graves does is, he’ll feel okay for a while and think he’s, like, permanently better. But the key thing is, you didn’t do anything wrong. This happens sometimes.”

“You didn’t see…I tried to touch him and he acted like I’d burned him…”

Lilah suddenly looked grim. “Yeah, that’s normal too, unfortunately…you didn’t see what he was like right after it happened. Yeah. _That,”_ she added when she saw his horrified face. “I met him right after _that_ happened. If you got closer than like…just out of arm’s reach, watch out, he’d breathe fire on you. First time he hugged me we’d been friends for, I want to say six months. Surprised the shit out of me.” She leaned forward and squeezed Credence’s arm. “Listen, this is going to happen every now and then. He’s going to get prickly on you. It’s not that he doesn’t love you. It’s just that he doesn’t want you to see him when he’s down.”

“What’s that going to look like when we’re married, do you think?”

“I think that’s up to you.” She stood up and ruffled his hair. “You’re okay, Cree. You’re really good for him. When you see him this afternoon, ask him if he’s been doing his self-care stuff. He’ll know what you mean. Might just piss him off more, but honestly, if you know Graves, that’s a good sign.”

Great. Now he had to upset Percy further. “Lilah?”

“Yeah?”

He stood up and hugged her, and she tensed in surprise but wasted no time in hugging him back. “Thank you,” he said quietly, knowing that a worse friend would have stopped at _I’m sure it’ll be okay._

~

Credence braced himself for another unpleasant conversation when he left the pharmacy at 3:30. Instead, he found a much-chastened Percy on the tail end of what he supposed had been a spectacular dressing-down from Lilah. “If that’s the extent of your emotional intelligence,” Lilah was scolding him as Credence left the office, “then I’d say you should get a new therapist because the current one hasn’t taught you fuck-all. Jesus _Christ,_ Graves. Proposing to the poor kid and then pushing him away? What a basic bitch move!”

Credence was so startled to hear her say _that_ to stoic, dignified Percy that he let a laugh escape, and they both jumped and turned to see him standing there. “Hi,” he said, feeling like an idiot.

“Hi,” Percy replied, looking about as stupid as Credence felt. “Uh. We should…”

“You should go to couple’s counseling,” Lilah snarked, but she smiled as she brushed past Credence and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Percy was quiet as they went to the locker room to get Credence’s things and then out to the car. When they were alone, he didn’t start the car. Just shifted in his seat until he could face Credence and then said point-blank, “I owe you an apology.”

And that alone was enough to make things feel infinitely better. Just knowing that Percy understood, that he _must_ understand, how Credence had felt to be so coolly dismissed earlier was enough. “It’s okay,” Credence started to say.

Percy shook his head and reached across the gearshift to take Credence’s hands in his. The relief of physical contact was so strong it nearly made Credence cry. “Sweetheart, it’s _not_ okay, not at all. You were right. If we’re going to…” His thumb brushed over the blue stone of Credence’s engagement ring. “If we’re going to make this work, I can’t push you away, or assume that you know what I need from you at a given moment.”

“It’s okay,” Credence repeated, and turned his palm over in Percy’s so that the scars were visible. “I should have understood…I didn’t mean to push you…”

“Look at me,” Percy said, and of course Credence did. “I was—” His voice broke. He looked away, took a deep breath, and looked back to Credence with renewed determination. “Before I met you, I was raped. And I know you already figured that out, because you’re too goddamn smart for me.” He looked away again and let out a self-conscious laugh. When he looked back again, he had tears in his eyes. “But I think we both needed to hear me say it.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I think I do. You need to understand…hell, _I_ need to understand…” He sighed heavily. “Being with you now, it’s—God, Credence, it’s the best thing to ever happen to me. But you…you can’t…erase what happened. And there are going to be times that it…gets to me. I’m trying to make it so that doesn’t happen anymore, but—”

“But it’s always going to happen.” Credence reached up and fitted his palm against Percy’s cheek, relieved when this time he was not pushed away. It was slightly scratchy and he realized Percy hadn’t shaved that morning. “How long ago was it?”

“Five years now. Well. A little more than that, actually.”

“Yeah, well…it’ll be five years in May since Tina got me out of my mother’s church, but I still hoard food like I’m about to be locked up and starved and I’m still afraid to wear a belt,” Credence said bluntly, and Percy looked shocked: he’d never said it plainly before. “Really, Percy. I of all people would know…it doesn’t just go away. I don’t expect you to _be okay_ all the time, I just…I just want to know what to do when you’re _not.”_

Percy was quiet for a very long moment, leaning into Credence’s hand against his cheek, still staring at him with wide eyes. Finally, he let out a breath and said, “I don’t know. I won’t know until it happens…”

“Okay. It’s okay.” Credence couldn’t help but smile when Percy reached up and covered Credence’s hand with his. “Will you at least promise me you’ll tell me when you want me to hold you, and when you don’t want me to touch you at all? Can you do that?”

“That I can do,” Percy agreed, and then Credence let out an abrupt squeak of surprise as Percy abruptly hauled him in for a kiss. “But right now, I just want to take you home. Is that all right?”

“Very okay,” Credence murmured against his lips. “Best idea you’ve had all day.”

~

Years later, Graves would remember that night as _the calm before the storm._

He took Credence home, set up his electric fireplace and lit a dozen candles instead of turning on the lights and the thermostat, and they made a blanket nest in front of the fireplace and hand-fed each other the sandwiches Credence insisted on making. An icy rain began to fall outside, and to block out the sound of the sleet tapping against the window, Graves put on the Vanessa Carlton CD that Credence had given him for Christmas. He held Credence close in their blanket nest and listened to him quietly sing along to the mellow, piano-backed songs, enjoying the security he felt at having his boy so safely wrapped in his arms.

They showered together, and Graves felt a sense of raw, inexplicable satisfaction when he was allowed to wash and dry Credence’s hair for him, and again when he carefully lifted Credence’s slim, towel-wrapped form to carry him to bed and Credence didn’t protest once. “I love you,” he whispered into the curve of his fiance’s neck, and nearly wept when Credence rolled them over and pinned him to the bed, offering up a messy, primal kiss instead of returning the words.

They made love, slow and achingly intimate, and when it was over Credence wrapped himself around Graves like a possessive octopus, Graves’ back pressed to his chest, long limbs closed around him and the blankets drawn up around them in a soft, cozy layer of symbolic protection. Only then did he whisper the craved _I love you_ against the back of Graves’ neck.

It was sweet. It was soft and beautifully tender. It was so idyllic Graves almost couldn’t believe it was real.

And if he’d known what was coming the next day, he would have savored every moment of it, even more so than he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up on Twitter @CupcakeFoggy if you wanna squee about fandom stuff together! ^_^
> 
> Rape/rape recovery TW spoilers: Whew boy here we go. First: Credence casually brings up Grindelwald's name, unaware of who he is, and a discussion ensues wherein Graves essentially begs him to try and stay out of Grindelwald's way, with plenty of internal, victim-blaming angst because he can't bring himself to tell Credence who Grindelwald really is. (There's a little bit of wider discussion in here about *why* Graves doesn't want anyone to know, he refers to healthcare as a "culture of silence," meaning it's highly likely that if he does tell, no one will believe him or acknowledge it.) Later, he tells Newt about the whole dilemma, Newt encourages him to tell Credence about Grindelwald for his safety. This conversation gets heavy too, with Newt essentially telling him "Credence is going to love you no matter what," and Graves basically going "yeah, but WILL he though;" ultimately Newt offers to help Graves tell Credence about Grindelwald. Finally, Graves begins to break down as the planned conversation between himself, Newt, and Credence draws near and pushes Credence away when he tries to help. Lilah talks to Credence about it and tells him that immediately after the assault, Graves was withdrawn and anxious, and averse to touch. At the end of the chapter they have a discussion about it and he bluntly tells Credence aloud for the first time that he was raped. Again, it's all discussion, no actual depiction or descriptive flashbacks of non-con, but the discussion is all there and some of Graves' internal monologue could definitely be triggering.
> 
> Mental health issues TW spoilers: Credence and Lupin discuss the incident after his first code when Credence went into shock and passed out. He states that he is in therapy now to help with his panic attacks, but is still skittish about discussing the event and it's clear he still feels some degree of embarrassment and defensiveness about his anxiety.
> 
> PTSD TW spoilers: Triggered by the prospect of telling Credence the identity of his rapist, Graves breaks down a little and pushes Credence away when he tries to reach out. There are multiple conversational descriptions of Graves' recent behavior: he's become more withdrawn and anxious and hasn't eaten or slept enough. It's implied this is partly because his therapist has been out of town and inaccessible for several weeks. Lilah outright states that during happier periods, Graves will think he's "better" and neglect his mental health because he thinks he doesn't need to worry about it anymore. At the end of the chapter during their talk, Graves outright tells Credence he doesn't often know whether his PTSD episodes will result in him wanting to be held and comforted or wanting to be left alone.
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: Credence reminds Graves that he understands trauma triggers because he still experiences them himself, hoarding food because his mother once starved him and fearing belts (implied it's because she used a belt to hit him for punishment).


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING WILL ROBINSON WARNING
> 
> This chapter contains my (gulp) first-ever crack at an attempted sexual assault. I repeat, THERE IS AN ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT IN THIS CHAPTER.
> 
> This is obviously some serious shit you guys. So. Please, please, PLEASE be mindful of the new tags, read the end note spoilers if you need to, and if you think this is gonna be too messy for you please, please, PLEASE skip over it.
> 
> Full list of TWs:  
> -Attempted sexual assault of a student by an authority figure  
> -Mentions of child abuse  
> -Medical procedures  
> -Violence/physical fighting
> 
> I'll put the medical junk lightning round up here this time:  
> -Atrial fibrillation/a-fib = irregular heartbeat  
> -Cardioversion = procedure to treat irregular heartbeat in which the patient is given a shock from a defibrillator  
> -Time-out = exactly how it sounds - taking a moment before a medical procedure to review crucial information  
> -Propofol = short-lasting general anesthetic  
> -Normal sinus rhythm/NSR = regular, healthy heart beat

“We have to go,” Percy sighed into Credence’s hair. “You have to be in pre-conference in fifteen minutes, and I’m supposed to be on the floor already.”

“Mmm. No. Not yet,” Credence said as he almost defiantly nuzzled Percy’s neck. “Your patients aren’t even awake yet.”

They were curled up together on a narrow, sagging vinyl couch in an empty patient lounge two floors below the telemetry unit. Credence had been settled on Percy’s lap, his head tucked into the crook of Percy’s neck, for the last twenty minutes. And, rather understandably he thought, he was having trouble finding the motivation to move.

With a very quiet laugh, Percy gently pulled Credence out of his neck so they could see each other. “I see. Well then, in that case…‘Let me be taken. Let me be put to death. I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye. ’Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow—’”

“What are you _doing_?” Credence whispered, a little shocked. Was Percy reciting poetry to him now, really?

Percy ignored him and went on, growing progressively louder and more commanding as he recited, “‘Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come, death, and welcome…’” At this point he stood up, Credence still clasped firmly in his arms, as he finished triumphantly, “ _Credence_ wills it so!”

Credence finally recognized the words from _Romeo and Juliet_ and couldn’t stop laughing as Percy held him bridal-style. “You’re going to wake the whole floor!” 

“It’ll be your fault if I do,” Percy teased. “Now if you don’t let me go do my job, I’ll _carry_ you to your floor, and everyone will tease you. Is that what you want?”

Credence sighed and leaned his forehead against Percy’s. “You know…it would be a lot easier to make that choice if you’d stop being so perfect.” He squirmed a little, trying to get down.

“Yeah?” Percy, sensing what Credence wanted as he always did, gently set him back on his feet. “You don’t want to let me go, is that it?”

“You know I don’t.” Credence tucked his head back into the crook of Percy’s neck. Percy seemed a little more relaxed now, but Credence had too much experience with what he’d termed “panic hangover” to think it would last.

“I’ll be all right. I promise.” Percy leaned in and gently brushed his lips against the side of Credence’s forehead. “Now don’t forget, we have dinner with Newt this evening,” he went on as he walked Credence to the elevators. “We’ll order in. Get all cozy in my apartment like yesterday.” His voice broke a little as he added, “And maybe if you still want to after we’ve talked, you can stay the night again.”

“Percy, I’ll never not want to spend the night with you,” Credence assured him.

“We’ll see how you feel tonight,” Percy replied cryptically. He pushed the elevator button and gave Credence’s hand one last squeeze. “Be strong today, sweetheart. I’ll see you in our usual spot at 3:30.”

“I can’t wait.” Credence reluctantly let go and stepped into the elevator, his heart tugging little at the longing look Percy gave him just before the doors shut.

Credence’s first-ever critical care assignment had atrial fibrillation and was scheduled for a cardioversion at 10:00 AM. “I don’t know what to do for her,” he told Professor Lupin when he got his assignment. “I’ve never had a cardiac patient. What if she codes?”

“Treat her like you would any other patient. Assess her, talk to her, accompany her to her procedure. I’ll be extremely surprised if she codes.” Professor Lupin patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Credence, I just about guarantee it.”

The patient in question, Mrs. Arabella Figg, was none too happy about being in the hospital, something Credence could absolutely understand. When he went to take her vitals she told him, “I have to get home to my cats. They’ll be worried about me, I’ve been gone all night.”

Instead of a generic “it’ll be all right,” he asked about her cats, and it was the right call: she was only too happy to tell Credence about them as he did her morning assessment. After that she was more willing to talk about her cardioversion. “I don’t know what they’re going to do to me. It’s very rude of them to just put me in this room and not tell me what’s going to happen,” she said unhappily, and Credence felt awful for her. It had to be scary to not only not know what was wrong with you, but also not know how they’d fix it.

“They’re going to use a defibrillator to shock you back into a normal rhythm,” he explained. “I know it sounds scary, but it’s pretty routine and they knock you out while they do it…anyway, the doctor will explain it better than I will.”

“Well, that’s something.” But she still looked more than a little apprehensive.

In the cardiac pre-op unit, a pretty redheaded surgical nurse named Ginny came to do the pre-op work. “Don’t you worry,” she told Mrs. Figg, “you’re in good hands. Our cardiac team is _epic._ You,” she added to Credence, “watch and learn.”

When Ginny went to get the anesthetist, Mrs. Figg got teary-eyed and started talking about her cats again. Credence offered to hold her hand until she went to the OR, and she promptly took him up on the offer, grasping him like a lifeline. And that, Credence reflected, was what it was really about. He wasn’t a proper nurse yet. He couldn’t fix her heartbeat. But he _could_ be there for her…and that, he realized was what Lupin had wanted him to understand all along.

Being wheeled into the OR did not ease Mrs. Figg’s nerves at all, and Credence couldn’t blame her; it was scary in there, with all that equipment and the bright fluorescent lights. “It’s all right,” he told her quietly as they went in. “I know I’m not a doctor or anything, but I’m going to stay right here with you, okay?”

“Please,” she entreated him quietly.

A no-nonsense older woman came bustling into the OR, clipboard in hand. “Are we ready to start the time-out?” she asked, and then noticed Credence. “Ah, are you the student? Good, good. You’ll enjoy this, I think.”

“We can’t start yet, Dr. Pomfrey, her NP isn’t here,” Padma, the nurse anesthetist, informed her.

“He’s on his way.” Ginny rolled her eyes and waited until Dr. Pomfrey was out of earshot to tell Credence, “When the DNP gets here, don’t pay him any mind. He likes patients but hates the rest of us, so if he’s a dick, don’t take it personal.”

Great, another Dr. Lockhart, probably. Credence went back to the gurney and stayed there, intermittently holding Mrs. Figg’s hand and helping her roll over while Ginny taped wires to her front and back, checked her IV port, hooked her up to the AED and the 12-lead EKG. “That’s a lot of wires,” she said uneasily.

Credence patted her arm. “Think about your cats,” he reminded her. “They’ll be so happy to have you back home when this is all over.”

And at that moment, who should stroll in but Percy! “All right, are we ready or not?” he demanded, brushing past Credence and heading straight for Ginny and Padma. “Patil, let me see what you’ve got there.” He plucked the glass bottle from her tray and held it up to the light. “Jesus, we’re giving her Propofol?”

“Ask Dr. Pomfrey, she’s the one who ordered the meds,” Padma said in a tone that would have earned Credence an instant slap if he’d used it on Ma.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Says the woman who’s paid to handle the anesthetics. Fine. Do you at least have throat-numbing spray?” She confirmed she did, and satisfied, Percy turned his attention on Ginny. “Do you have the consent forms?”

“Dr. Pomfrey does,” she told him, pointing to the control booth. “And the medication reconciliation.”

“All right. I’ll take a look before we get started,” Percy replied, and then turned to his patient. “How are we doing, dear? Nervous?” he asked in a much softer voice, and when Mrs. Figg nodded he said, “That’s normal. But no need for it. Just give us a moment to finish up our pre-op checklist and we’ll put you out good and proper, you’ll wake up with a fixed heartbeat and we’ll get you home.”

“I hope so. My cats need me, you know,” she reminded him.

“Well, then. We better make sure they get you back tonight.” He gave her a pat on the arm and turned towards the control booth, but when his eyes landed on Credence he stopped short. “Credence? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Um…” Credence had, in fact, quite forgot what he was doing there. Watching Percy in his element was incredible; it was like he’d been put on earth for the express purpose of storming into a cardiac center OR like he owned it.

“He’s her student nurse,” Ginny said quickly, coming up behind Credence and putting a protective hand on his shoulder.

“You aren’t going to send him away, are you?” Mrs. Figg asked anxiously.

“Of course not, he’s your nurse, isn’t he? I tell you, if I were in the hospital I’d certainly want Credence at my side. Don’t you worry, dear, you’re in good hands.” Percy gave her a reassuring smile, then sternly addressed his team, “Now, I want you ready to go on time today, you hear me? If we get behind schedule, I’m not taking the fall for it again.”

“Be nice if you did, considering _you’re_ the one who always puts us behind,” Padma said under her breath.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Patil.” Percy shot her a dark look, but when he turned back to Credence his face softened again. “Now, as for you—just shadow her,” he nodded to Ginny, “and do as we tell you. I know how conscientious you are, so I’m not too worried. It’ll be all right.”

When Dr. Graves had gone into control booth, Ginny grabbed Credence’s arm. “What the hell? Did you, like, hypnotize him or something?” she demanded. “He’s _never_ like that! Like—he’s never that _nice_ to anyone but the patients. For real, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. Maybe he’ll get to a point where he’s _not_ an asshole all the time.”

Credence very much doubted Ginny would consider Percy such an asshole if _she_ were the patient awaiting a literally heart-stopping procedure. She’d be thankful to have such a perfectionist taking care of her, he thought. But he didn’t want to start a fight (especially since he actually did like Ginny), so he held his tongue.

Dr. Graves and Dr. Pomfrey returned to the OR and it was time to begin. Ginny called the time-out and, in what seemed like eight seconds flat she rattled off the patient’s name, date of birth, admitting diagnosis, the procedure, the date and time, and the names of the care team, barely even looking at the sheet in front of her. “How did you _do_ that?” Credence demanded in a whisper when she finished.

“Practice,” she said with a grin. “If you ever become an ED or OR nurse, you’ll be able to do that in your sleep.”

Credence took Mrs. Figg’s hand again as Padma hooked the syringe to her IV. “I’ll be right here the whole time. You’ll see me when you wake up,” he promised, and stayed there until he felt her hand limply fall from his grasp, at which point he stepped back to make way for the doctors.

Dr. Pomfrey slicked up a long, thin probe with some lubricating gel and slid the scope into the patient’s throat, and Credence watched, wide-eyed, as the grainy image of a heart appeared on the monitor. “We’re trying to get a look at her heart,” the doctor explained. “If she has a blood clot, we can’t shock her.”

Percy kept his eyes glued to the monitor. “Where is it,” he muttered. “Where is it…there’s always something…”

Dr. Pomfrey eyed the screen closely too. “Looks good to me,” she said, satisfied. “She’s clean. Proceed, Dr. Graves,” she ordered, and withdrew the scope.

“No clot?” Percy suddenly smiled. “Well, would you look at that? No clot.” He caught Credence’s eye as he went over to the AED. “All right Credence, you’re up. C’mon over here with me, you’ve got a job to do.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide. “Seriously? _You’re_ going to let him do it?”

“Well, technically, it’s _my_ call,” Dr. Pomfrey said with a smile, “and I say yes. Go over there with Dr. Graves, Credence.”

Credence went over to the AED, feeling more tense than ever. “See that?” Percy pointed to the EKG tracing. “That’s a-fib. Her heartbeat is irregular. What we’re going to do is deliver a nice shock, and it should ‘reset’ her heart.” He pointed to a red button. “On Dr. Pomfrey’s signal, you’re going to push and hold, I’ll count down, and then you let it go.” Seeing Credence’s wide, nervous eyes he added in a whisper, “You can do it, sweetheart, I promise.”

Dr. Pomfrey watched the bedside monitor for a moment before she said, “All right, now push and hold.” Credence obeyed, feeling a thrill of mingled nerves and excitement. 

The AED humed as it charged. “Okay, here we go,” Percy said. “Three, two, one, and _now_ , Credence—” 

Credence let go. There was a sharp, crackling sound, and then a long, breathless silence, broken only by the beep of the EKG. And then Percy let out a sigh of relief, at the same time Dr. Pomfrey said, “It worked!” She shot Credence an encouraging smile. “Your patient is back in normal sinus rhythm. Good job.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he protested automatically.

Dr. Pomfrey shook her head. “All the students say that. But you did exactly what any good nurse would do: You kept a cool head, you followed your doctor’s orders, and you took good care of your patient during the pre-op. Good work.”

Mrs. Figg was wheeled into a recovery bay and Credence settled into a chair beside her, waiting for her to wake up. He could feel electricity sparking through his nerves as if he’d been the one to get a shock. _This is why you’re here_ , he reminded himself. _This is why you’re putting yourself through all this stress._ He felt, rather than saw, Percy standing in the doorway. “Is it always like this?”

“No. There are bad days, trust me. But when it works…it feels like a miracle.” Percy gently squeezed his shoulder. “You did good, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you,” he whispered in his ear, and slipped out the door, leaving Credence filled with a deep, glowing warmth and a sense of pride he had never felt before.

He practically skipped to the floor when Mrs. Figg was released back to her bed in telemetry, which was not at all lost on Professor Lupin. “I take it the procedure went well?” he said with a knowing smile, and laughed when Credence nodded eagerly. “There, nothing to be afraid of, is it? Let’s do your med-pass now.”

It was much, _much_ easier passing meds under Lupin’s gentle instructions than trying to do it with Lockhart breathing down his neck, and charting assessments and care plans went by much quicker when he wasn’t afraid he’d get in trouble for the littlest mistake. And Lupin was very encouraging when he looked over their patient data sheets, pointing out places where their care plans could improve and showing them how to look up their patients’ histories in EPIC, instead of giving them all grief for not already knowing.

Even eating lunch was less stressful in this clinical group. Having Nagini in his clinical group was a real stroke of luck, and aside from her and Neville, he only knew the others in his clinical group by sight—it was a clean start completely, with no one here aside from Lupin needing to know what had happened last semester unless he told them.

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia knew each other from the previous semester, having all been in the same lab section, but they weren’t clique-ish, and they didn’t seem to mind one bit that Credence shyly stuck close to Nagini. The other girls, Fleur and Astoria, were pretty and smart enough to be intimidating and so far, he hadn’t managed to say one word to her other than “hello.” Credence had definitely noticed that he and Neville were the only male students in the group and he’d expected some teasing, but so far that had not been an issue.

In fact, the three girls who knew each other from last semester had already semi-adopted him by lunchtime and were the first to _oooh_ when Dr. Dumbledore (who Credence did have to admit was quite handsome, though of course he was hardly anything compared to Percy) popped by their table and addressed him by name while Lupin was introducing them all. “Hello Credence,” he said warmly, reaching out for a handshake. “Gellert has mentioned you, of course.”

“Oh.” Credence wasn’t sure, after his conversation with Percy, if he still thought that was a good thing. Nagini elbowed him under the table, but the other girls were looking from him to Dr. Dumbledore with some envy, as though they wished _they_ were the ones who’d been talked up by Mr. Grindelwald.

“Actually, if you’ve got a minute, he’d love to see you again,” Dr. Dumbledore went on as if nothing was unusual about this at all. “He’s very charmed by you, it seems. I haven’t seen him this taken with a student in a long time.”

Before Credence could demure, Lupin was already standing up and nudging him to his feet, saying, “Oh, of course we can spare him a few minutes, I think…we don’t mind students taking little field trips here and there to other departments. Actually remind me later, Al, I’d love to arrange for the group to come get a look around the informatics department, see how the policy is made…”

“I’m sure Gellert will be thrilled. He loves students, you know.” Dr. Dumbledore gave them all a quick smile and gently linked his arm through Credence’s, leading him away before Credence could get out a _wait can we talk about this._ “So, this is your second semester? You like the accelerated program, then?”

“I do,” Credence agreed cautiously. “It’s…a lot, though. I’m glad we only have one clinical right now…but for mental health we have to get a lot of our own clinical hours. I’m nervous about that.”

“Ah, the supplemental clinical hours…I’ve had a few students come to me about that over the years. I volunteer for a suicide hotline,” he added in response to Credence’s surprised look. “In my spare time, not that you get much of that as a cardiologist…but, yes. I find it highly rewarding.” He offered Credence a little smile and squeezed his arm. “You can easily get three or four hours from that, if you think you might be interested. I have a feeling if Gellert has his way, we’ll get to know each other fairly well anyway.”

“About that…” Credence bit his lip. He’d been anxious, but now found himself mellowing a little; Dr. Dumbledore had a way of talking that made Credence feel more like he was chatting with an older brother than addressing a very important doctor. “I like working the floor, but he keeps telling me he wants me in his department. Will he be…very angry, I guess…if I say no?”

“Gellert isn’t a fan of the word no, I’ll admit, but—oh, no need to be nervous,” Dr. Dumbledore quickly assured him. “He can live with the disappointment. I find flattery helps when dealing with him,” he added with a chuckle. “But you’re under no obligation to accept the first job offer you receive. Trust me, as much as they make a big deal out of having something lined up for when you leave school, I’ve yet to meet a nurse that didn’t have at least three or four offers before they’ve even got their license. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Ah, here we are. Now, don’t let him push you around too much. As I said, this is all up to you.”

Mr. Grindelwald’s office was as cool and casually luxurious as the man was himself, and Credence wasn’t at all comfortable there. He thought of Tina’s office at work—she shared hers with the interim police chief, a spirited southern woman named Brenda, who kept Hostess cupcakes and lots of candy in her desk and had no reservations about sharing. Credence very much doubted Mr. Grindelwald’s immaculate desk was stuffed full of junk food.

“Credence,” the man greeted him warmly, reaching out to pull Credence into a side-to-side embrace as if they were old friends. “Come sit, my dear. I have a proposition for you. Don’t look so nervous now.” Mr. Grindelwald withdrew two bottles of sparkling water from the mini-fridge under his desk and handed one to Credence, who had no intention of drinking it. Something about this seemed off to him. “Have a drink, dear one, you look very pale, I’ll admit I’m a touch concerned.”

Credence swallowed hard and set the bottle on the desk. He had yet to sit down. Something about this…very wrong. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said carefully, recalling Percy’s words from their earlier conversation: _if you want any kind of future at Macusa, he’s certainly someone you don’t want to cross._ “I thought you just…wanted me to work for you.”

“Oh, I do, I do,” Mr. Grindelwald assured him smoothly. He slid an arm around Credence’s shoulders and led him over to the windowseat. “Come, dear. We have a lot to discuss.”

Credence pulled away before he could be made to sit down. “I don’t think we do, actually.” He took a deep breath. His heart was crawling into his throat and he suddenly felt very warm as it began to sink in just what was happening. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think I’m a good fit for your department. I—I’m sorry to have, um—” (Oh good lord why was the man so _close,_ it was definitely outside the bounds of professional behavior!) “To have wasted so much of your time—”

“You’ve not wasted a bit of my time, my dear.” Mr. Grindelwald took both of Credence’s hands in his. “I suppose I’ll have to be a touch more forward, or this won’t go anywhere, with you being so shy and all…I don’t believe your Dr. Graves is the person with whom you ought to be allied at this…present juncture of your career. I think you have…shall we say…better options if you want to truly…advance.”

Credence was utterly floored for a moment, both at Grindelwald’s forwardness and the earnestness with which he said it. “I—I can’t— _oh!”_ Before he could even begin to process what was happening Grindelwald had one arm around his shoulders and the other around his waist and was gripping him far too tightly, and Credence was too stunned to squirm away before a harsh kiss was pressed against his lips.

For a moment he felt numb, frozen with terror. Grindelwald had him in an iron grip, his mouth sealed over Credence’s as if he were attempting CPR, both arms locked tight around him. No hope of escape. He remembered Dr. Dumbledore’s words from earlier: _Gellert isn’t a fan of the word no._ And just like that, he remembered that Grindelwald was married, and that his husband would very definitely not like what was going on in here. With some effort he jerked his head back, just barely managing to break the kiss. “You’re married!” he protested.

“What Al doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Grindelwald replied smoothly, and yanked him back in for another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before crushing their mouths together again. When Credence tried to pull away again, Grindelwald sighed and said impatiently, “We have an open relationship. I’m sure you’ve heard of such things, you’re hardly a child, Credence.”

Credence tried to squirm out of that iron-tight grip. “No,” he said very firmly. His heart was pounding and it felt as if the contents of his stomach were having a rave, but he was as clear-headed as ever. “No,” he repeated. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this.”

“I’ll change your mind,” Grindelwald assured him. His words were a promise; his voice was a threat. He forced Credence back into a kiss, effectively cutting off his protests.

For a moment Credence froze again, stunned beyond words. Smooth, polite, kind Mr. Grindelwald, acting like _this?_ How could he? And where had this come from? Sure, he’d flirted once or twice, but he’d never—Credence could have _sworn_ he would never—he was married, he was a bigshot at the hospital, he had responsibilities that Credence couldn’t even imagine. How could _this_ be the kind of man he really was?

 _Just like Percy warned you,_ a tiny voice reminded him in the back of his head. _And didn’t Nagini tell you not to be alone with him? You fucked that up, didn’t you. Look what it got you. This is your fault. How can you be so stupid to give people the benefit of the doubt after everything that’s happened to you? You got yourself into this. And no one’s coming to save you._

The arm around Credence’s shoulders pulled at his scrub top until a hand wormed its way inside. Oh God. Oh _God,_ Grindelwald was touching his scars! No. That was unacceptable. _(But maybe he’ll be disgusted and leave you alone?)_ Sure enough there was a pause, and then with the air of one who’d found mold on their fruit but was determined to eat it anyway, he resumed kissing Credence with great enthusiasm, the hand on his back withdrawing and this time going for the drawstring of his scrub pants—

_No. This is not going to happen._

_You never fought back when she hit you. You sat there and took it. You let her literally flay the flesh from your back, you let her brand you. You let her hurt you and you did it because you didn’t think you had a choice._

_You have a choice. And you’re not going to let this fucker do to you what he did to Percy._

(Because now he knew. He _knew,_ with all the cold, sick dread that accompanied the realization, what Percy had meant when he’d said Grindelwald was not a good man. _Not a good man_ —wasn’t _that_ an understatement!)

“Let me _go!”_ With a tremendous effort he broke the kiss and, when Grindelwald still wouldn’t let him go, drew back his leg and, with all the strength he could muster, kneed the man in the crotch.

Grindelwald did indeed let him go, howling in pain and looking at him with such fury Credence almost threw up on the spot. “What a little charmer you are,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Just like Graves. I should’ve known he’d ruin you.”

 _You ruined him, or you tried to,_ Credence wanted to say, but he was too busy fleeing for the door. Too late. Grindelwald, apparently done playing nice, grabbed a handful of his hair. Credence shrieked in pain as he was hurled to the surface of Grindelwald’s immaculate desk. He felt the back of his leg slice open on a sharp metal corner and let out another scream of pain that Grindelwald ignored. “If you’d just stop fighting you’ll see,” he panted, holding Credence down with one hand as the other furiously worked at the drawstring of his scrubs, “I can offer you _much_ more than your precious Dr. Graves. Really, but I know your type. Need a real man to keep you in line—oh for heaven’s sake!”

Credence had bucked so wildly, trying to throw him off, that Grindelwald accidentally ripped the drawstring clean out of the holes. Well, that was a problem for future Credence. Present Credence needed to get out of here, and _now._ There was nothing on the desk he could use as a weapon…but he had an idea, a last ditch desperate idea, and when Grindelwald leaned in for another kiss Credence was ready: he slammed the side of his head into Grindelwald’s nose, resulting in a _crunch_ that really should not have been so satisfying.

With another howl of pain Grindelwald punched him across the face, but that required a free hand, and Credence took his chance. He grabbed the hand that had just struck him and bit his assailant’s wrist, hard, and this time Grindelwald actually fell back a little as he yelped his displeasure. Credence reared back and kicked, hard, and felt a little twinge of hot, angry satisfaction as he made contact with Grindelwald’s knee. The man dropped to one knee with another yelp of pain and Credence was able, how he would never know, to get off the desk and out into the hall, Grindelwald scrabbling behind him.

But Credence was beyond caring what else people thought. He thought of his mother again. How she had put on that same simpering, falsely pleasant facade in front of others, only to morph into a monster in private. Grindelwald was like those ugly villains on _Scooby-Doo,_ he thought angrily. Someone needed to pull off his mask.

“Just for future reference, you absolute _shitbag,”_ he snarled, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it even over the sound of his unfamiliarly angry voice, “if a person says _no,_ they _mean it._ If you ever touch me again I will _fucking kill you.”_

He heard a sharp little gasp behind him and turned around just in time to see—oh. Well. This wasn’t good.

Tina and Newt were standing behind him, both of them staring at him through wide, horrified eyes. Credence winced a little as he realized the picture he must present, with his hair half-ripped from its tie, his shirt ripped open in the back, his pants falling down and a bruise blooming on his cheek. Well, in his defense, it’s not like he’d done any of it on purpose.

Tina snapped into action first. She quickly realized what was happening and strode towards Grindelwald, leaning on the doorway of his office and watching Credence through furious eyes, and arrested him on the spot. “It is my absolute _pleasure,”_ she hissed, her eyes burning with mingled anger and satisfaction, “to inform you that you have the right to remain silent.”

Meanwhile Newt came to his senses and slipped off his lab coat, which he promptly draped around Credence to hide the worst of the damage to his scrubs. “Did he—” he began, and let out an actual sob when Credence nodded. “Fuck. Oh, Graves is going to die. Come on then. Tina’s going to want you at the station, luv. Teen, I’ll drive him,” he called out to Tina, who was busy cuffing Grindelwald. “We can meet you there.”

“No,” she said, hauling Grindelwald by the arm, manhandling him like a naughty toddler. “He can ride with us. You need to get Graves, meet us there.”

“Percy doesn’t need to know,” Credence told her quickly. “Or at least, not now, I’ll tell him later—”

“Oh, he absolutely does need to know,” Newt said grimly. “All right then. I’ll go get him. Credence, be a dear and go with Tina,” he added in a much gentler tone. “She’ll look after you. Make sure you’re all right. Do you need first aid? Want me to shout for an ambulance?”

Really, but now Credence was sure Newt was crazy. Aside from the ripped clothes and bruises he was fine, could they not see that? He felt…good, actually. Almost numb again. His cheek was…shouldn’t that be hurting? He reached up to touch the bruise, his eyes drifting out of focus. Suddenly he realized his hand was shaking. “I’m fine,” he tried to say, and then he made the mistake of looking around, trying to get his bearings.

Grindelwald was standing there with Tina, his dark eyes glittering, and Credence could see blood dripping down his face, his nose clearly broken, and all Credence could think was, _I did that._ The events of the last five minutes played over in his head in brutal 3-D, swirling in and out and around him, revolving around one single, solid fact. If he hadn’t fought back—oh God. The reality of the fate he had so narrowly escaped hit him full force.

“I’m fine,” he tried to say again, and then the world faded to a muted whirl of color and white noise as his legs gave out. He felt a pair of arms catch him. Newt, of course, who else? He tried to say _thank you, Dr. Scamander,_ but his throat didn’t seem to be capable of making sounds, and oh, God, he was so tired…

~

Graves should have known it was coming. Should have known he was going to get the call. He should have known the minute Credence casually dropped the monster’s name that it would come to this.

Because Grindelwald ruined things. It was what he did, in his nature. And Graves should have known. He should have warned Credence so long ago, because if he had…if he _had…_

Newt was with Credence—he’d texted Graves and told him _you need to meet us at the police station, it’s urgent. Grindelwald tried to assault Credence, we’re en route to the police station now, he’s very upset Graves, he’s going to need you_ —so it was, ironically, the monster’s husband who caught Graves and held him upright when his knees threatened to give out, who reassuringly patted his back and helped him rinse his mouth after he threw up in the breakroom sink.

And Graves repaid him, with no remorse whatsoever, by punching him directly in the face as soon as he could see straight. “You married a goddamn rapist,” he growled. “I hope you’re fucking happy. God, no—” He jerked himself out of Dumbledore’s way as the man, looking far too concerned for Graves’ well-being for someone who’d just been punched in the face, reached out to him. “For the thousandth fucking time, _don’t touch me,”_ he all but snarled, and turned and ran from the breakroom, blind with fury.

He made it outside before he threw up again, dry-heaving acid and bile into the flowerbeds in front of the hospital. His head hurt so badly it felt as if his very skull would split. He could barely see. His face burned and he was seeing double. There was nothing, _nothing_ in the world, he was sure, that could be worse than this.

He’d failed. Credence was the one good thing to come out of his time at Macusa, and Graves had failed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual assault TW spoilers: Grindelwald gets Credence alone in his office and, wrongly assuming his attraction to Credence is reciprocated, makes a pass at him. Credence rebuffs him and he insists on pushing forward, snapping at Credence for being prudish when Credence says he doesn't want to help Grindelwald cheat on his husband. He gets increasingly handsy and Credence, seeing no other options, knees him in the crotch to make him stop. Grindelwald gets angry and gets very rough with Credence and rips his clothes. Credence continues to fight back until he gets away by breaking his nose; Grindelwald punches him in retaliation but Credence biteshim and kicks him in the knee and is able to get away; he gets out into the hallway and loudly tells Grindelwald not to touch him again, effectively alerting anyone in earshot that Grindelwald assaulted him. This part is EXTREMELY emotionally fraught with Credence 1) realizing too late that Grindelwald is the man who raped Graves, and 2) blaming himself during the early stages of the assault for not seeing it coming. He goes into shock after the assault is over and passes out in front of Newt and Tina.
> 
> (The ending, FWIW, could be read as cathartic/empowering, with Credence successfully fighting the man off and shouting him down, and Grindelwald getting properly arrested.)
> 
> Child abuse TW spoilers: During Grindelwald's attempt to force himself on Credence, Credence reflects that he let his mother beat him because he didn't think he had a choice. He also recalls how she feigned kindness in front of others only to hurt him when they were alone.
> 
> Medical stuff TW spoilers: Credence participates in a cardioversion, a procedure in which a patient is sedated and then shocked with an AED in order to fix an irregular heartbeat. It's an empowering and emotional experience for Credence, in sharp contrast to his disastrous first code, but it is very heavy on medical language and terminology; IVs are mentioned and a tube is put down an unconscious patient's throat. Nothing graphic, but could still be triggering if you hate any and all medical stuff.
> 
> Violence TW spoilers: Again, it's not graphic, but it is definitely there. Credence kicks, bites, and head-buts Grindelwald in an attempt to get away from him. Grindelwald tears Credence's clothes, pulls his hair, and punches him to try and make him stay still. Afterwards, when Graves learns that Grindelwald attacked Credence, he punches Dumbledore when the doctor tries to comfort him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE HAVE ARRIVED Y'ALL
> 
> So. This chapter is basically Law And I.V. League: Special Victims Unit. The trigger warnings for this one are off the charts, and I really am not exaggerating in the slightest. In no particular order we have:
> 
> -HUGE HUGE HONKING ONE for (past) rape/attempted sexual assualt  
> -Police (yes, police are their own TW, call me a liberal snowflake idgaf)  
> -Unethical police work  
> -PTSD  
> -Mental health issues  
> -Allusions to past child abuse
> 
> See end notes for spoilers (and by spoilers, I basically mean chapter summary, bc that's literally all there is here)
> 
> Now, on that note...let's go see Grindelwald Get His, shall we? ;)
> 
> (If this chapter is going to be Too Much for anyone, btw, I completely and totally understand. As a survivor of an abusive relationship myself I totally, 100% get the feelings that can come up re: this stuff, so. Please please please skip it if you need to. Drink water. Get a hug (or hug yourself if social distancing rules forbid hugs in your area right now). Do whatever you need to do. <3 )

Credence sat in the passenger seat of Newt’s car feeling somewhat better, if still a little (okay, a lot) shaken. Newt had handled his fainting spell _much_ better than Lockhart had, coaxing him back to consciousness before checking his vitals, making him drink some water, and finally, _carefully_ easing him out to the car in a wheelchair so he could drive them both to the police station.

Now he couldn’t suppress a shudder. Poor Percy…Credence couldn’t even imagine. He felt shaken now and he’d only come close to being violated. He remembered making love to Percy, just last night now—God, that seemed so far away—and how it took so much careful work to make sure he didn’t hurt Percy, to open him up just right so that he only felt pleasure as Credence pushed his way inside. He shuddered again at the thought of how much pain Grindelwald must have caused Percy, and he felt a renewed wave of fury mingled with nausea.

“Credence? Are you all right?” Newt asked, sneaking a look at him as they came to a stoplight.

Credence looked over to Newt. “It was him, wasn’t it,” he murmured, his heart twisting as Newt nodded sadly. “He did—that—to Percy, didn’t he.”

Newt sighed heavily. “He did. We were going to tell you tonight, actually…oh Credence, you mustn’t blame Graves for not telling you sooner. He wanted to, but…it’s so hard to explain…”

Credence didn’t need to hear any more. He knew full well that if he hadn’t burst out of the office looking like he’d just fought a particularly hungry tiger, no one would have believed him when he tried to come forward. “What was he like,” he found himself asking, “after it…after it happened? Was it…bad?”

Newt sighed again and nodded reluctantly. “It was awful. I was…” He trailed off and had to clear his throat before he went on, “I was there, right afterward. He was…well, you really don’t want to know, believe me.” He winced and looked down to Credence’s lap, then quickly looked up as the light turned green and he had to drive again. “How’s the leg? Sore at all?”

“I can’t feel it,” Credence admitted. “I can’t…really feel anything.” He knew there was a cut on his leg, knew he had bruises all over and that his head ought to hurt from when Grindelwald pulled his hair. “Should I go to a doctor?” he asked as they pulled into the police station. “This is the second time I’ve passed out in response to something bad happening in…not even three months, I think…”

“Oh, Credence…” Newt pulled into a parking spot and shut the car off before he turned in his seat and reached out. He wrapped a hand around Credence’s upper arm and squeezed gently; Credence had seen him do this very thing with Percy so many times and it made him feel better in a way he hadn’t expected. Like he belonged here. Like they were really _friends._

Tears glued his lashes together but he wouldn’t let them fall. “I’m scared,” he admitted in a tiny voice, “and I don’t even know what it is I’m afraid of.”

Newt’s hand moved up his arm, fingertips rubbing tiny circles on his shoulder blade. “You don’t need a neurological exam,” he assured Credence gently. “You just had a huge shock and your body reacted accordingly, that’s all. I’d talk to a therapist, not a neurologist.”

“I have someone to talk to—” And then he broke off, tears welling up faster, oh God why was he crying now? _No, no, don’t do this,_ he silently begged his body, _go numb again, that felt better._ Suddenly the cut on his leg hurt, and he could feel every ache and pain from being slammed into the desk, his head hurt and his heart was beating in a funny way, he felt—off— _scared—_

“There,” he hear Newt hum soothingly, and he realized his face was buried in the man’s shoulder, his entire body wracking with sobs. “I’ve got you, luv. It’s okay. Sh-h-h. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you, or Graves, ever again. Tina and I’ll make sure of that, understand? There now, you’re all right, you can cry, I’ve got you. It’s all right. I know it’s scary but you’re going to be all right.”

Instinctively Credence tried to pull away, to hide. But Newt didn’t let him go, and Credence eventually gave in and cried until he could breathe again. “I’m sorry,” he managed when he was done. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to—”

“Oh, no darling, no,” Newt said as he pulled out a packet of tissues and patted carefully at Credence’s red, damp eyes. “No, no. Don’t apologize. Trust me, it’s better to let it out than pretend it’s okay…there, now do you think we can go inside? The sooner you tell Tina’s friends in there what he did, the sooner they can lock that wanker up and throw away the key,” he added with a bracing smile.

Credence managed a tiny, watery smile in reply. “I think I can, yeah.” And then, because he thought Newt deserved to hear it, he impulsively added, “You’re going to make a really fantastic dad.”

Newt’s face went soft and he gave Credence one last hug. “Well, thank you. That means a lot. Now, listen…” He made Credence look at him. “Don’t apologize once we get in here, you understand? You did nothing wrong. It’s all on him.”

“Nagini told me to not be alone with him, I should have listened—”

“No,” Newt said firmly. “No, _no._ You had no way of knowing what that man is capable of. And even if you _had,_ if you went in there armed and ready and he got the drop on you, _it still wouldn’t be your fault._ He decided to attack you. And I sincerely doubt any member of Tina’s squad will tell you otherwise.”

Credence felt like he was about to cry again, but he managed to nod and allow Newt to pull him out of the car and lead him into the station. He barely made it inside before he was engulfed in a hug. Tina, of course. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised him in a whisper, and then took him to the interview room.

He’d met Chief Johnson a few times, and he liked her well enough. She was always nice to him, always snuck a handful of candy into his pocket whenever he stopped by the station. He liked her southern accent, and the way she smiled every time she saw him just before tugging a stray piece of his hair and teasing him about needing a haircut. Today, however, she wasn’t smiling. “Aw, Credence, come here.” She pulled him in for a quick hug before she settled him in a chair. “I’m so sorry about this, honey. Tina filled me in a little…awful, just awful.” She passed him a bottle of water and gave him the chance to drink a bit before she said, “Now when you feel up to it, you just tell me what happened. Remember, we got him now. He’s not gonna hurt you again, you hear me? We won’t let him.”

Credence took a few more sips of water, and made himself do three rounds of 4-7-8 breathing, the way Ms. Trelawney had taught him in their last session, before he told Chief Johnson as much as he could remember. Some of it already felt fuzzy and distant, but other pieces of it were achingly clear. The sound of Grindelwald’s nose breaking was permanently etched in his memory, as was the way Grindelwald had hesitated when he felt Credence’s scars.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’…” Chief Johnson leaned forward in her chair after Credence had finished. “From the way you’ve described his behavior, I suspect he’s done this before, to other students, or interns, anyone he can exert a little power over…so I’m sorry, but I need to ask: do you have any idea if he’s hurt anybody you know? Any of your classmates, any of your friends?”

Credence’s stomach dropped. There was no way he could answer that question. Not without betraying Percy, and he knew he could never forgive himself for that. “I know someone,” he said softly. “But I can’t tell you what happened.”

Chief Johnson looked surprised. “Oh. Well…why not?”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He knew he was disappointing her, and he hated it, but… “Because it’s not my story to tell.”

~

By a stroke of pure luck, Graves reached the police station just as Tina and her boss, Captain Raydor, were coming out of the back hall to the front desk. Tina opened her mouth to speak to him, but he cut her off. “Credence. Where is he? Is he okay? Can I see him, please?”

“I’m sorry, but no, you can’t…you’re both part of an ongoing investigation, you’ve been named as a key witness,” Tina informed him with a wince. “Please don’t be too—too hard on him, Graves. Brenda didn’t really give him a choice.”

Graves didn’t have the mental energy to parse out what she meant by that. Captain Raydor led him to an interrogation room and bade him to sit down. Graves did, feeling as if the world were collapsing around him. “Please,” he heard himself say, one hand gripping the edge of the steel table as if it could keep him from flying apart, “please, just…just tell me if he’s okay.”

She hesitated a moment, then sighed and sat down across from him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re investigating an incident that occurred at Macusa City Hospital. The victim, under close questioning, indicated that the assailant had a history of violence. We’re investigating a Mr. Gellert Grindelwald for attempted sexual assault and…” Her face took on an almost pained expression of sympathy. “At least one count of rape.”

Graves was torn between pride _(Credence fought the bastard, good for him)_ and total despair. “He told you, then,” he said softly. “God, he’s smart. I never said who it was…I guess he figured it out.”

Captain Raydor nodded. “Chief Johnson has a few questions for you. I think you know what’s about to happen, Dr. Graves, don’t you?”

“I’ll talk,” he said immediately. “If it helps Credence, I’ll talk. I…” He looked down at the table. “I honestly don’t know how much use it’ll be. It was over five years ago now…God, isn’t there a statute of limitations on this sort of thing?”

“Not for criminal sexual conduct in the first degree, no…is there anything we can do to make this at all easier on you?” she asked him gently. “You have the right to have a friend or advocate with you while you give your report…since your partner is part of our investigation I’m afraid I can’t let you see him right now, but is there anyone else who might…help?”

Graves thought quickly. “Reuben Finnegan,” he decided. “He owns the fish and chip shop over on Jefferson. That’s who I want.”

“I’ll get right on it,” she promised, and left him alone.

Graves didn’t know how long he waited. Time seemed to have stopped working the way it should, and his mind couldn’t settle on one thing, memories of _that night_ jumbled with the image of Credence’s sweet face, the throb of fear that gripped him every time he thought of the words _attempted sexual assault…_

But the next time the door opened Chief Johnson came in along with a tall gray-haired man Graves didn’t know, and…oh thank _God._ Reuben went straight for Graves, who stood up and gladly submitted to be hugged. “’S all right now, lad,” Reuben murmured. “I’m here. No one’s gonna hurt you on my watch.”

Graves remembered the day they’d buried his father, he’d been sixteen and angry and grieving, and had no idea how to deal with it. He’d lashed out and Reuben had responded by holding him and telling him, _there’s no shame in shedding a tear. Real men have hearts, boy. Don’t let the world be telling you otherwise._

Once all four of them were seated, Chief Johnson said, “Dr. Graves, I’m so sorry to see you again under these circumstances. This here is Lieutenant Flynn…but if you aren’t comfortable with a male officer, we can—”

“No,” he cut her off. “No, let him stay, I don’t care. I just want this over with.”

“All right, then…earlier today there was an incident at Macusa City Hospital. We have arrested a Mr. Gellert Grindelwald on charges of attempted sexual assault. Does that name mean anything to you?”

Reuben’s hand tightened on Graves’ arm as he nodded. “Are you sure about this, son?” Reuben asked him quietly. This was exactly why Reuben had been chosen: he knew what it would cost Graves to break his silence.

And he would also understand why it had to happen. “I have to,” he told Reuben softly. “Reuben, he…he attacked Credence.” Reuben’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing, just nodded and scooted his chair a little closer. 

Chief Johnson nodded and told Graves, “Your boy Credence? He’s a steel trap. We practically had to bribe and beg to get him to tell us anything. But eventually we did get it out of him that he has reason to believe that the man who assaulted him today, did the same to you a few years back. Can you confirm that?”

The walls closed in. _This is it. Might as well go turn in your hospital ID now, because after this you’ll never be able to show your face at Macusa again._ “Yeah. August twenty-ninth, 2013. It happened at my apartment, he…he was drunk. Knocked on the door, forced his way in. I kept telling him to go, that we were over and I didn’t want to see him anymore. He…didn’t listen.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more than that,” Chief Johnson told him, her voice soft and apologetic. “I know this is hard, believe me, I know. But if we want to put this man away, we’re gonna have to get a confession out of him.”

“You won’t,” he told her with a bitter laugh.“Do you think I didn’t consider putting myself through all this shit, when it first happened? You think I didn’t fantasize every goddamn night about seeing him dragged off in handcuffs? I did. But if you put me in a courtroom, I know you know what’ll happen. I check all your imperfect victim boxes—I’m male, gay, over the age of consent, and the rapist is my ex. Everyone on that jury is going to take one look at me and go _yep, he asked for it, strong guy like him, he could’ve fought the bastard off if he really didn’t want it, this is such a waste of time.”_

Chief Johnson nodded slowly, a look of sad understanding briefly crossing her face. Then she snapped back to business and told him briskly, “I’m well aware of all of that, Dr. Graves. But here’s the thing, we already have him for attempted assault. But he has no criminal record. Worst he’s gonna get is a fine, _maybe_ a few months. But if we can get criminal sexual conduct in the first degree…his career will be all but over and he will never, _ever_ touch you or Credence again. I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you? So would I. But I need to rattle his cage so hard he spills his guts. And I need your help in order to make that happen.”

Graves wanted, so badly, to believe that she _could_ make it happen. Very carefully he offered, “Would physical evidence help? I don’t know if DNA would prove anything…like I said, we used to date…but if it would…”

“It may not be admissible,” Chief Johnson said slowly, “if it wasn’t officially collected as part of a state rape kit. But why don’t you tell me what you’ve got?”

“Newt Scamander.” He looked her right in the eyes. “You need to talk to Newt Scamander. He’s a DNP at Macusa. He was with me after—after it happened.” Graves swallowed hard. “He has photos. And I think he got swabs of—of the skin or blood or whatever was under my nails—he wanted me to make a report, God, he wanted me to, but I—I couldn’t. But he saved all that stuff, I think.”

Chief Johnson looked as if her birthday had come early. She turned to Lt. Flynn and said, “Go get the young man who brought in Credence and set him up in an interview room. And _be nice to him,_ you hear? We need him. Get those photos, that evidence, and we might just get this creep off the streets.” As he left, she turned back to Graves and fixed her face back into a neutral mask of sympathy. “Now then. Can you tell me everything you remember from that day?”

Reuben squeezed Graves’ shoulder, a gesture of silent support. Graves shot him an apologetic look before he scooted his chair away; reliving _that night_ would most likely bring back the old fear of being touched, or make him feel trapped, and he knew Reuben would understand. “I’ll do my best,” he said, took a deep breath, and began, “We dated for about three months before he left me for his ex. I thought that was the end of it, until he showed up at my place one night…”

~

After Credence gave his statement, Chief Johnson offered up her own office as a place to rest until she was ready for him to come and see Grindelwald’s interview. “This isn’t our usual protocol,” she said as she led him to the control booth, “but I think this interrogation is something you and your Dr. Graves need to see.”

Feeling like he was dreaming, Credence followed Chief Johnson down the hall and let her direct him into a room that looked kind of like the A/V room at Ilvermorny. There were multiple TV screens, a sound board, and a couple of men wearing headsets in front of the desk. There were a few other people in the small room too…but Credence only had eyes for one man.

Percy stood in the corner, hunched in on himself and looking desperately unhappy. Credence immediately tried to get to him, but one of the men, whom Credence could only assume was a police officer, stopped him. “Easy there, son,” he warned him quietly. “You don’t want to bother him right now, trust me.”

But Percy’s head had snapped up as soon as Credence entered the room, and he quietly told the officer, “It’s okay. He can come over.”

Credence made a beeline for Percy, and abruptly stopped a good few feet away when he saw that Percy looked…off. His eyes were puffy, his face flushed and tense. Credence reached out, and his suspicions were confirmed when Percy flinched away. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. I’m just going to stand…right here. And I’ll just be here if you need me, okay?” He stood just within arm’s reach, so they weren’t touching but Percy could easily get him if he needed.

On the TV screens, Grindelwald was waiting in an interrogation room. It was…very strange, seeing someone he’d once thought so kind and friendly, sitting there, awaiting interrogation related to sexual assault. He looked over to Percy and his heart broke: how awful it must be to think you had put all of this behind you, only to suddenly be forced to confront it again.

“Well, Mr. Grindelwald,” came a warm southern voice from the TV screen, and Credence looked over to see Chief Johnson entering the interrogation room. “I’m so very sorry to have kept you waiting so long. It’s just been such a busy day! I’m sure such an important man as yourself would understand…now what is it you do again, sir? You’re a…doctor, they said?”

She was using a soft, breathy, girlish voice that Credence had definitely never heard from her before, practically simpering, and she’d taken her hair out of its severe twist and was juggling an armful of binders and papers. Credence saw Grindelwald smirk and realized what she was doing. He’d heard Tina describe this trick of Chief Johnson’s before: she liked to camouflage herself, like a predator, and lull the criminals she interrogated into a false sense of security. If Credence didn’t know, he might’ve thought she was a harmless intern or a new employee. Definitely not the criminal-eating shark Tina so admired.

“No, dear. Nurse practitioner.” Grindelwald smiled at her, almost affectionately. “You can understand, I’m sure, why I’d be the target for…certain allegations.”

“Of course sir, of course, I’m so sorry, I know this has just been _so_ inconvenient for you…of course nothing ever moves fast when it comes to government. Oh…here.” She fished a folder out of the stack of binders she’d been shuffling around and settled herself down in the seat opposite him. “So I read your statement, today you…” She pulled out a sheet, squinted at it, and read, “You mistakenly assumed that a young man at Macusa was interested…and made advances that he rejected.” She looked up and said, a hint of ice creeping into her simpering tone, “Must’ve been one hell of a misunderstanding. That broken nose looks awfully painful.”

“Well, you know how these kids are today. Can’t take a compliment, of course.” Grindelwald rolled his eyes, oblivious to the fact that Chief Johnson’s sweet smile had dropped and she was staring daggers at him. “Now I was told that once my statement was signed and affirmed, I could leave. So if you don’t mind, miss…”

“Chief,” she corrected him coolly, her girlish voice now completely gone. “And that was the original agreement, yes, but we’ve had some new information come to light. I should remind you here that you have the right to an attorney—”

“—which I do not need, ma’am,” he interrupted her coolly, “because I have done nothing wrong.”

“I have a statement here regarding your sexual assault of an Ilvermorny nursing student that says otherwise,” she snapped. “No lawyer? Fine. We’ll do it your way.” She flicked open the file and yanked out several photos, which she tossed on the table in front of Grindelwald. “Looks like Mr. Barebone isn’t the only one you’ve decided to have your way with, is he? Do these look familiar?”

Credence couldn’t see the photos very clearly, but the way Percy tensed up beside him told him all he needed to know. “I’m not going to look,” he promised in a whisper, and Percy responded with a choked little sound that might’ve been _thank you._

“I have signed statements from Dr. Percival Graves and Dr. Newt Scamander that tell a very harrowing story,” Chief Johnson informed a suddenly not-so-detached Grindelwald. “Dr. Graves alleges that you forced entry into his home on August twenty-ninth of 2013 and—”

Percy made a little noise of distress and Credence instinctively reached out to him, only to pull back when Percy looked at him with pure terror. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll go.”

“I want you here—” Percy looked utterly miserable. “But I also don’t.”

“—drunk as a skunk, and when he tried to turn you away, well. That made you mad, didn’t it,” Chief Johnson was saying, pointing to the photos in front of Grindelwald. “Smacked his head on the wall when he tried to push you away, didn’t you? Got a little rough with him, well—who could blame you, I guess, you just ‘bedded him like a man,’ is that right? Now I’ll admit I’m not much learned in the ways of gay sex, Mr. Grindelwald, but I’d imagine that when the end result looks like _that,”_ she indicated the photos of a bruised, broken Percy, “well, I’d think something hadn’t gone according to plan.”

“Now hold on there,” Grindelwald sputtered, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re saying—”

“—that you raped Dr. Graves? Why yes, yes I sure am. Rape, battery, forced entry—my goodness, Mr. Grindelwald, you were trying to build up a criminal record all in one night, weren’t you?” She smacked her hands down on the table and he jumped back, looking rather like a deer in headlights. “Now, maybe it was just a lover’s dispute, is that what you’re gonna tell me? Because honestly, I’ve heard that one before—”

“No, no,” he quickly cut her off, “no. I—I was with someone else that night.”

“Awww, that’s right,” she cooed, “I forgot, by that point you were, what, two months out from your wedding to Dr. Albus Dumbledore, from Macusa. That’s right. Well then, I’m sure you won’t mind if we give him a shout, if you _were_ with your future husband that night you’ll have nothing to worry about, will you?”

Grindelwald sputtered again. “Well—I don’t recall exactly what night I was there, I did need to return some of his things, our breakup was—somewhat abrupt—”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” Chief Johnson assured him sweetly. “We have security footage of you going into Dr. Graves’ apartment building that night, that should refresh your memory just dandy.”

Grindelwald looked so upset that Credence nearly laughed. Chief Johnson continued to work at him, first suggesting that she ought to call Dr. Dumbledore to ask if he was aware of Grindelwald’s history with Percy (the man nearly turned ghost-white at that, and practically shouted at her to drop the idea), then pushing him into admitting that he had gone to Percy’s house that night, and finally…

She whipped out a little test tube-like vial with a Q-tip in it and slammed it on the table. “This here is a sample of your DNA taken directly off Dr. Graves after the assault, collected by another doctor at Macusa. Now I’m sure you’re aware, with physical evidence this case is open and shut, so it’s really in your best interest—”

“We _were_ lovers in the past,” Grindelwald protested. He saw the look on Chief Johnson’s face and apparently realized he wasn’t going to win this one. “I—oh all right, we were intimate that night, yes. But I certainly never did any of the—”

“Look at the photos, Mr. Grindelwald!” She smacked her hand down on the table again, right over the pictures. “The digital timestamp on those photos is exactly five hours after you were seen leaving on the security camera. Now again I say, if that’s how your sexual partners look after you’ve just had _consensual intercourse_ with them, I do think I ought to have your husband come in just to make sure the poor man don’t have a damned concussion!”

Credence couldn’t help it—he let out a short gasp of laughter that made nearly everyone in the room jump. He turned to Percy, shame scorching his face and an apology at the ready…an apology that died on his lips as he saw that Percy, for the first time, was almost smiling. “She’s good, isn’t she,” he murmured. “I’m glad it’s her.”

“She’s got our backs,” Credence agreed, and blinked in surprise when Percy shyly held out a hand. “Are you sure? You don’t have t—”

“I’m sure. I can’t hold you right now, I’m sorry, but—but I’m glad you’re here, even if I wish you didn’t have to hear this.” Percy’s face tensed briefly when Credence cautiously linked their fingers together. Then he relaxed a little, gave Credence’s hand a single squeeze, and refocused on the TV.

Grindelwald was knee-deep in another effort to get himself out of trouble. “Now listen Chief, you don’t know my ex like I do. It’s hardly _my_ fault if he likes it rough, now, is it?”

Credence felt Percy’s hand constrict around his, and a flash of hot, painful anger shot through him like a bullet. But Chief Johnson was ready: she whipped another test tube out of nowhere and slammed it on the table. “Oh, really? Well explain this then…we have another sample here of your DNA that we collected from under his fingernails. See that red? I’d bet money that’s blood, so…”

Suddenly Chief Johnson slapped the tabletop again, hard, and Grindelwald jumped back, eyeing her warily as she rose from her chair and got right in his face. “I know,” she said, her voice absolutely frigid, “that if you look closely in those photos you’ll see broken nails. Now maybe you’re right, I don’t know Dr. Graves, maybe he does like to be pushed around a bit, that’s none of my business…what I do know, however, is that no one fights back so hard they draw blood and break nails unless they are _fighting for their lives.”_

Grindelwald stared at her, momentarily struck dumb. Credence felt Percy tense up again beside him and made to draw away, but Percy gripped his hand tight as Chief Johnson went on, “Now you have got two choices. Either you tell me the truth right now, or I walk out that door and this goes to trial, because you can absolutely _bet your ass_ I will advise Dr. Graves to press the case. And we have physical evidence, so if it goes to trial, I assure you we will take you down. So let me just ask you this: do you _want_ that husband of yours to know about every last bit of this? Because every time I mention his name you get more jumpy than a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader at a Redskins game, so I’m guessing you don’t want a full trial with all the media attention that entails. So I’ll ask you one last time: _what did you do to Dr. Graves?”_

“Chief Johnson, ma’am, I can _assure_ you—”

“You got to the count of three, boy, and then I’m gonna turn ’round and walk out that door and come back with a warrant for your damn arrest, you hear me? I am not whistling bye-bye Sue here, I am _ready_ to do it, and I can’t _wait_ to call that husband of yours to the stand in a court of law—”

 _“Okay! Okay!”_ Grindelwald pushes his chair back as far as he can to get away from her. “Goodness, there’s no need to shout…all right. I’ll—wait, now, I want to make sure we agree on the terms—if I sign another one of your precious little statements we agree, this won’t…get out?”

Chief Johnson immediately went right back into sugar-sweet mode. “I assure you, Mr. Grindelwald,” she said politely, “there will be _no need_ for a trial, or any involvement from your husband at all, if you write out and sign your name to a document confirming what I’m about to ask you.” She sat down and pushed a yellow legal pad across the desk. “Now. Last time I’ll ask. Did you or did you not force yourself on Percival Graves?” 

Grindelwald sighed heavily and, with plenty of prompting from Chief Johnson and a pause here and there to write it down, told “his side” of the story. That he had, after imbibing a touch too much beer one night, made the impulsive decision to visit Percy, just to see if he was “making the right choice.” That Percy had seemed “resistant” to seeing Grindelwald, but after a “brief struggle,” he was able to make Percy “submit to him.”

(Percy drew away from Credence again somewhere around the “brief struggle” and curled in on himself as he leaned into the corner, and it broke Credence’s heart to see him clinging to the wall as if he were trying as hard as he could to not pass out—or run away screaming)

“Is _any_ of that evidence admissible?” one of the cops asked at one point, after Chief Johnson threateningly reminded Grindelwald of her physical evidence.

Captain Raydor chuckled, a look on her face that suggested she was having the time of her life. “Absolutely none of it. But that won’t matter one bit, if she has her way.”

Credence found himself holding his breath as Grindelwald signed his confession and handed it over to Chief Johnson, who smiled beatifically and chirruped, “Well thank you, thank you _very much,_ you have been _so_ helpful, sir. Now, one last thing…” She opened the door and in stalked Tina, looking as murderous as she had when arresting Grindelwald at Macusa.

“What on _earth,”_ began Grindelwald, but Tina was already in full swing.

“You see, this document here is a legal confession,” Chief Johnson informed him with a crocodile grin as Tina yanked Grindelwald none too gently out of his seat and cuffed his hands in front of him. “So what Detective Goldstein here is gonna do is, she’s gonna take you to a nice comfy cell while we book you for criminal sexual conduct in the first degree.”

“You bitch,” Grindelwald snarled, trying to wrench himself away from Tina. “You tricked me, you said, _you said—”_

“I said there’d be no need for a trial, and thanks to this confession, there won’t be,” Chief Johnson said icily. “And I said there’s no need for you to tell that husband of yours and there won’t be…though I do suppose it doesn’t bode too well for your marriage that you’re going to be spending the next, oh, minimum of I’d say ten or fifteen years in a cell…”

“Come on, you two,” Captain Raydor said with a knowing smile as she cut the feed and nodded to Credence and Percy. “We’re going to take him away now, if that’s something you think you’d like to see—oh!”

Credence jumped and turned around in time to see Percy slide to the floor and bury his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking. “Oh my God, Percy!” He dropped to his knees and let his hand hover a good few inches over Percy’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

And then he was shocked when Percy lifted his face and, though tears streaked steadily down his face, he was _laughing._ “It’s over,” he breathed. “Holy fuck, she _did it._ I can’t even believe—” He reached out and grasped both of Credence’s hands in his. “We’re safe,” he whispered, tears still cascading from his eyes, a smile bright enough to light up all of Detroit splitting his face. “We’re fucking safe, sweetheart, she did it. He’s gone.”

“Not yet,” Credence said, and realized he was giggling too, relief making him almost hysterical now that he saw that Percy was all right. “Come on, let’s go down, I want to see Tina drag him off.”

Newt and Reuben met them in the hall and they followed Captain Raydor to the first floor, just in time for Tina to drag Grindelwald from the interrogation hall and towards the jail. When he saw the four of them, his eyes slid right over Credence and landed on Percy. With a feral noise that turned Credence’s blood cold he lunged. Percy froze in place, but Credence and Reuben both reached up to draw him out of the way at the same time, with the result that instead of seizing Percy’s throat with his cuffed hands, he ended up with a handful of Newt’s sweater.

With reflexes faster than Credence had ever seen, Tina had her taser out and thrust deep into Grindelwald’s side. He made a noise like an injured animal and _dropped,_ howls of pain spilling from his lips as he twitched on the floor. Tina glared down at him. “Assaulting a civilian _and_ resisting arrest at the same time,” she said through gritted teeth. “We’re just racking up the charges here, aren’t we pal?”

“Detective Goldstein!” Captain Raydor said sharply. “You do realize you just used unauthorized force on a man in custody? That’s going to be an incident report and a minimum two-week suspension with pay, _and_ a public apology!”

“Sorry, Captain,” Tina said blandly, and then, while Captain Raydor knelt to examine the whimpering Grindelwald, Tina winked at Credence and Percy and mouthed, _“Totally_ worth it.”

Credence didn’t care about the writhing man on the floor, nor did he care if Tina had gotten any satisfaction out of tasering the man or if she’d just done it on reflex. All he cared about was that Percy’s head had dropped to his shoulder and he could hear his fiance’s tentative, relieved laughter in his ear.

~

Graves wasn’t sure what to expect that night when he and Credence went back home.

Well. _Home_ perhaps was a misnomer. They went back to Credence’s little apartment in the Goldsteins’ basement. He’d wanted to go back to his place, but Credence’s scrubs were ripped beyond recognition and Graves knew full well he’d want the comfort of his own bed that night. And, really, why shouldn’t the kid have anything he wanted? He was the hero today, after all.

Credence, naturally, seemed a little on edge. He showered with the door open and seemed reluctant to let Graves more than fifteen feet away. He seemed to be of the same headspace Graves felt, more or less, which basically came down to _all right, so…what the hell do we do now?_

He didn’t know how to feel. Relief cycled painfully with guilt, _thank God he’s in jail_ quickly replaced with _but at what cost?_ Graves knew that what had happened at the police station today was necessary, vital even, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d added to Credence’s trauma, and he didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if that was indeed the case.

It took them a while to figure out how to fit together in the bed. Credence was anxious about touching Graves and kept assuring him _it’s okay, we don’t have to touch, in fact you can go upstairs to sleep if you want._ Finally, just to reassure them both, Graves reached out and pulled Credence into his lap, burying his face in his sweetheart’s delicious-smelling hair. Rosemary, that was what Credence’s shampoo smelled like. Rosemary and mint. Familiar and clean and comforting.

They sat like that for a while, tangled gracelessly on top of the sheets, until Credence shifted them under the covers and lay back, pulling Graves down so that his head rested on Credence’s chest and Credence had both arms around him. The same position that they both favored, Graves realized with a jolt, after love-making…

“I don’t know when I’m going to want to have sex again,” he blurted out, and then fervently wished he could disappear.

“Okay,” Credence replied immediately. “Okay. That’s fine. I won’t ask.”

“No, I mean—God, how are you this _okay_ right now?” The words tumbled out without his consent. “How are you just—I mean—fuck, why are you babying me like this, Christ, I should be comforting you, you’re the one who was attacked today, how—”

“I’m not okay.”

Three simple words, just enough to cut off his rambling. Graves fell silent, his heart crumbling in his chest. “Oh,” was all he could say.

“Yeah.” Credence’s arms tightened around him, as if Graves were his own personal teddy bear and he was trying to stave off the monsters in the closet. “I’m not even a little bit okay, I—I mean, God, I feel _sick._ I don’t think I’ll be able to eat for the next couple of days and I’m about ninety percent sure I’m going to have nightmares tonight—so brace yourself for that, I guess—and you want to know something? I have _no idea_ what I’m even feeling right now because—God, you know, nothing actually happened! Nothing I couldn’t have dealt with anyway. Like, when you grow up bracing yourself to get fifteen or twenty hits to your back with a leather belt every night, slicing your leg open on a desk barely even registers.” He let out a bitter little laugh. “Did Newt tell you I passed out, when I got away? Like, I totally kicked Grindelwald’s ass—you would’ve loved it, I kicked him in the balls and then broke his nose—and for a hot second I felt _great._ Like, hey, finally I stopped it, someone tried to hurt me and this time I didn’t just take it, awesome! But then it’s like my body realized what happened and—well, just like during the code, I just. Couldn’t take it.”

He fell silent for a moment, and Graves felt compelled to say something. “Credence, love…you know you have nothing to be ashamed of, right?”

_“Neither do you.”_

There was a long, tense moment of silence. And then, as if a switch flipped, Credence started to cry, really cry, the way he had when Graves had caught him after the failed code, a sound that pierced Graves’ heart like a poisoned arrow. He started to sit up, to adjust their position so he could hold Credence and comfort him, saying, “I’m sorry, here, let me—”

“No,” Credence forced out through his tears. “No. I want to hold you, just like this, because you feel safe when I hold you and I feel safe when you lie on me, and we’re going to sleep like this, and tomorrow we’re going to do something, anything, I don’t care if all we do is make out with our clothes off but it’s going to be _something,_ because that stupid snarky bastard is _not_ going to ruin us. And we’re both going to go to our therapists this week and _we’re going to be okay,_ eventually, but tonight I just need to _not_ be okay, and I think you do too.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.” Graves lay back down, holding on tightly as he listened to Credence’s racing heart until it began to calm down. “I love you so much,” he whispered, and felt a pair of thin, trembling—but strong, _so_ very strong—arms squeeze him tightly in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape/rape recovery TW spoilers: We find out what happened the night GG raped Graves: he showed up drunk, pushed his way in when Graves answered the door, knocked him on the head so he wouldn't struggle, and forced himself on him. There are photographs of Graves mentioned that were taken after the assault when he was bruised and beat-up, and the interrogator briefly mentions he had blood under his nails from trying to fight back. None of this is graphic or described in flashback, just stated in narrative. Victim-blaming abounds, with GG repeatedly insisting Graves "liked it rough" and that it wasn't really rape; in the end, however, he is forced to admit it was.
> 
> Attempted sexual assault spoilers: GG is arrested after trying to force himself on Credence, who fought him off and turned him in. Cree is naturally shaken by the whole thing and at one point tries to blame himself ("I was warned...") Newt and Chief Johnson, and later Percy, very firmly assure him he's not to blame.
> 
> Police/unethical policing: Chief Brenda Lee Johnson is the one to interrogate GG and she pulls out all the stops, threatening him with a trial and exhibiting physical evidence that wouldn't hold up in a court of law to force a confession out of him. She does this because she knows that the evidence would likely be thrown out and it would be his word against Graves' if it goes to trial, and she does get a confession out of him, but it could be seen as dirty police work. (This is actually typical of her character, as anyone who has seen The Closer will know very well.) After he is arrested, Grindelwald lunges at Graves and instead grabs Newt, and Tina tases him to make him let go--again, it's GG so he does deserve it and Tina *is* strongly reprimanded, but it could be seen as police brutality and therefore merits a TW.
> 
> -PTSD/mental health spoilers: Credence and Graves are both very shaken by their encounters with GG. Graves' touch-aversion makes an appearance, and he says at one point the "walls are closing in" as he's forced to testify about his past with GG. Credence alludes to the fact that this is his second trauma/shock-related fainting spell since he started school. Repeated mentions that Credence is "numb" or doesn't know how to feel about all of this. At the ending Credence breaks down in tears when Graves asks if he's okay because, well, no he is not. 
> 
> -Child abuse spoilers: Credence plainly states that his mother used to whip him "fifteen or twenty strokes" with his belt.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAND we're back! ^_^
> 
> There's a little time-skip in this one, about two months. So. Be aware of that :) Mostly softness and sweetness this time though...I figured we've earned that after the last few chapters!
> 
> Chapter TWs  
> -The assault is referenced and discussed a few times, never in graphic detail  
> -Medical procedure on a simulated patient right at the beginning  
> -Brief references to past child abuse  
> See end notes for TW spoilers as always :)
> 
> Medical junk lightning round:  
> -eMAR = electronic medication acceptance record, or what nurses refer to as "charting" - this is where you'd find doctor's orders, medications to be administered, patient history, etc  
> -NG tube = nasogastric tube, a temporary device used to feed and administer medications to patients who can't eat normally - connecting it on low intermittent suction will also help patients who are repeatedly throwing up  
> -Xiphoid process - end of your sternum, this is about where your stomach is at and where you'd want the tube to go for feeding  
> -Zofran = anti-nausea medication  
> -Priming the IV = making sure the line is full of fluid, with no air bubbles, before you hook it up to the patient

“Oh my God, that’s so much blood!”

Credence winced as he checked the emesis basin. “Yeah, I’d say about 400 mLs. You don’t have gloves on, go ahead and document it. The Zofran didn’t work.”

“What are we going to do?” Nagini asked, looking between him and the patient. “A transfusion won’t help if he just keeps puking it up.”

“Am I dying?” came the soft, metallic voice of their patient. The plastic eyelids blinked rapidly, as if the mannequin were trying not to cry.

It was March, two months into critical care class, and they were in the middle of their blood transfusion simulation. Everybody else had dreaded this one, but Credence found it exciting…and safe. You couldn’t hurt a mannequin, even if it was easy to forget that in the heat of the moment.

Credence reached down and patted the mannequin’s shoulder as if it were a real person. “No. We’re gonna take care of you, we just have to—oh!” His eyes had just landed on the NG equipment on the wall. “Nagini, can you check the eMAR and see if there’s an order for an NG tube?”

Nagini’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Oh my God Cree, you’re a genius.” She checked the computer. “Yep, standing order for NG. Damn, I don’t remember how to—”

“I do.” Credence raced to take off his gloves, sanitize his hands, and put new ones on before he grabbed the kit off the wall. “Here,” he said as he tossed Nagini the tape measure from the kit. “Remember, tip of the nose to behind the ear, and then down to the xiphoid process. We need the tube to go into the stomach not the lungs.”

Together they got the tube down the mannequin’s nose and into his stomach. Credence had Nagini inject air into the tube while he listened for bowel sounds with his stethoscope to make sure everything was in the right place, before connecting it to the wall on low-intermittent suction. “We’ll get some blood in you now, all right?” he told the patient. “You should feel much better soon.”

They set up the blood and normal saline, and primed the IV, after they’d checked the blood type and read back the serial numbers to each other. When they finally pushed the button to start the transfusion, Credence just about cried in relief. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “We’re good. Just gotta stay with him the first fifteen minutes and—”

“And nothing,” came Professor Lupin’s voice from the door, and as if on cue all two of them whirled around to see him standing there with Newt. “You’ve reached the end of your simulation. Good job, both of you,” he praised. “Credence, I’m especially impressed that you recognized the need for an NG tube, not every group has picked up on that.”

Nagini gave him a congratulatory sock to the arm. “Told you you’re a genius.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Newt said (Credence just _couldn’t_ think of him as Dr. Scamander even in class now; the man lived at his house!), but he shot Credence a brief smile before he clapped his hands and said, “Right then, you lot, come on down to the conference room for debriefing. Excellent work overall though…”

Credence was walking on air as they left the sim lab. “Someone’s in a good mood,” Nagini observed as Credence spun her around under his arm like they were ballroom dancing. “I take it you’re happy with how the sim went?”

“Yep!” He twirled her again, just to make her laugh. “Maybe it’s the weather. I don’t know. I just feel happy today.” It was only fifty degrees, but it was sunny and after a long winter it felt fantastic to feel sunlight and warmth again.

“Could it be, maybe, because you’re going to see your man?” Nagini teased him, and he laughed and pretended to swat her.

“Yeah. Yoga first, then dinner after.” They’d reached Credence’s car, and he unlocked the trunk and tossed in his backpack. “It feels weird doing this on a day when I feel happy,” he admitted. “It feels…wrong, kind of? Like asking the doctor for a Norco when you’re bored and just want to sleep.”

Nagini snorted at the mental image. Then she reached out to squeeze his hand. “But it’s not like that,” she reminded him. “It’s more like taking a vitamin even though you’re already eating good food, you know?”

“Yeah, I just can’t shake that _I should be doing something productive_ feeling.”

“This _is_ productive,” she insisted, and reached up to close his trunk before nudging him towards the front of the car. “Next time you feel like shit you’ll be really glad you took the time to prep for it, right?”

“I mean, I hope so.” He brightened a little as he added, “You know, I haven’t had any panic attacks since he got arrested. Not real full-blown ones, anyway.”

“That’s good. Keep taking care of yourself and maybe it’ll stay that way.” Nagini pulled him into a quick hug. “Go see your man and get your yoga on. I’ll text you tonight to check in.”

“Aww, thanks. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know.”

~

Credence _loved_ doing the trauma-sensitive yoga class with Percy. They’d done it every Saturday for the last six weeks, after Percy’s therapist had suggested they go together. Percy was supposed to do it twice a week, once in class and once on his own, but he sheepishly confessed to Credence that it had been more like once a month and, after a little pressure from both Credence and Dr. Firenze, admitted that he might “like it a little better” if Credence came along, and as it turned out, he did…but Credence? Credence _loved_ it.

The locker room was empty when Credence got to the physical therapy office where the classes were held. He’d already changed out of his scrubs into his leggings and loose, stretchy tank top when Percy came in behind him. “Oh, now there’s a sight a man likes to see,” Percy teased as he set down his bag.

“Are you okay?” Credence had learned to cut to the chase. Percy would flirt to hide his anxiety, but if Credence asked him a direct question, he wouldn’t lie.

“I’m all right, sweetheart. No one said anything today,” Percy assured him.

Credence nodded, aware that while he had been given a hero’s welcome from his classmates for fighting off Grindelwald, Percy had not been so lucky. The upper crust of Macusa were furious with Percy for tarnishing the hospital’s reputation and getting their star employee thrown in prison.

Percy saw the look on his face and reached out, and Credence gratefully went to him for a hug. “I’m okay, baby,” he told Credence quietly, bolstering the words with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about me. Remus and Al have my back at work. You don’t need to be concerned with that. Now, let’s get out there.”

They had their pick of spots on the floor. The class was not a popular one, presumably because most people didn’t know about trauma-sensitive yoga. To Credence, it was magic. He loved the gentle cadence of the teacher’s voice, the woodsy, clean scent of the studio, the ASMR sounds in the background. And he loved the lack of structure. If he felt like stopping or resting, he could. If he needed to open his eyes to reassure himself that Percy was still there with him, he could and at first he frequently did, though he didn’t feel the need as much now.

The purpose of trauma-sensitive yoga, as had been explained on the first day, was to learn to self-soothe and to feel safe in your body. Each class had a different theme, and today’s was “grounding.” They began by sitting cross legged, hands resting on their knees. “You can close your eyes if you want,” Niki, the teacher, told them. “But if you feel more comfortable keeping them open, do so. We’ll begin by taking deep breaths to steady ourselves, then move on to our stretches.”

Credence closed his eyes and breathed the way Ms. Trelawney had taught him to do for self-hypnosis. In for a count of three and out for six, over and over until it felt like the breaths were automatic, rolling through him in an easy, steady cycle. He could feel his body respond immediately, as if his lungs and muscles were saying _oh, we’re doing this? we can rest now? sweet, I’m all for that, let’s do it._

The stretches for this class were easy, mostly arm and upper body. Arms out to the side to form a triangle, then back to the center with palms together, then up over the head in a “Y.” Palms together over the head to form a steeple. Bend to the right with one arm over your head, then switch to the left. Back straight again, left hand on the right knee, turn at the waist; repeat on the other side. 

It was all very slow and careful, with lots of magic phrases like _when you’re ready_ and _at your pace_ sprinkled in. “Remember,” Niki said as she had them move to a kneeling pose, “you own your body. Listen to it. Respond to it. If something doesn’t feel right, you don’t need permission to change or stop.”

She had them kneel, backs straight and arms stretched up, and invited them all, if they liked, to repeat with her _my body is mine, I am safe._ Credence said the words aloud…and heard Percy doing the same beside him. Any other time it would’ve melted his heart. Instead he just acknowledged it, made a mental note to praise Percy for it later, and re-centered himself. _Feel the stretch. Say the words. You’re allowed to focus on yourself right now._

At the end of class as they all lay in corpse pose Credence kept his eyes closed, cycling his breathing again. Niki was repeating _your body is yours, you are safe,_ but this time he didn’t feel a need to listen. Instead he zeroed in on the ocean sounds ASMR and breathed slow and steady, focusing on how hard the floor was beneath his mat and the pleasantly worn-out feeling in his loose muscles.

At the end of the class he took his time getting up. He felt Percy watching him and said, “You can hug me now, if you want.” The second time they’d done this class, Percy had tried to hold his hand through corpse pose and Credence had felt horribly guilty for starting and pulling away. Since then he’d made a strict no-touch-during-yoga rule. But now he let himself be pulled into an embrace, not at all missing the sigh of relief from Percy “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’ll sleep well tonight,” Percy said, wincing a little as he pulled back. “I don’t know how you manage to zone out at the end; lying flat on your back on a hard surface is not my idea of relaxing.”

“Aww, my poor old man,” Credence teased, earning himself a retaliatory tickle. “Seriously though,” he added as they headed for the lockers, “if you don’t like that, you know she wouldn’t mind if you lay on your side or sat up for it. The point is to let your body and mind relax after all the stretching, it’s not supposed to stress you out _more.”_

“Look, I don’t want solutions,” Percy told him with a shameless grin. He tugged Credence out of earshot of their few classmates, and whispered in his ear, “I’m trying to hint at wanting a backrub here. You know. For therapeutic purposes.”

It was Credence’s turn to laugh. “Well, fine. If that’s _really_ what you need…”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Percy told him with a mischievous smile…and a kiss that promptly turned Credence’s insides to goo.

Since the day Grindelwald had been arrested, intimacy had returned in slow, careful increments. If he’d been the only one who was assaulted Credence might have suggested ripping off the band-aid and just getting get it over with, and he’d initially suggested it, but he knew it would be absolute torture for Percy…which was probably a good thing, because if Credence was truly honest, sex was the last thing he’d wanted in the immediate aftermath of the incident. 

So they went back to square one and built it up slowly, just as they had when they were first dating. Kisses were gentle and mostly chaste, and while they slept in the same bed fairly regularly, they had yet to actually do anything that could be considered sex; it was all cuddles and backrubs and hand-holding. It was sweet and it felt good and it _was_ intimate, and nothing made Credence feel more loved than when Percy cuddled with him, either holding Credence or allowing himself to be held. 

It wasn’t like it was before. But that was okay. It was still _them,_ and Credence still felt safe and loved and _wanted._ Sex or no sex, they still loved and trusted each other more than anything. Grindelwald hadn’t taken _that_ away from them, and it satisfied Credence beyond anything to know that he never could.

“I’m sorry,” Percy sighed into his shoulder that night as they lay curled up in a blanket-nest on his massive bed, after dinner and the promised back massage. “I’m holding out on you, God, you’ve got to be dying…”

“I’m not dying,” Credence assured him patiently. And he wasn’t. Sex was nice, of course, and he looked forward to the day they could go there again, but he was not, in fact, about to die from lack of orgasms.

“It’s been months—”

“—which is _nothing_ to me, Percy. You forget, I made it twenty-six years without sex. I can live without it.” He squeezed Percy closer and added, “But I can’t live with hurting you, or myself, by forcing something neither one of us wants yet.”

Percy was silent for a moment, before he finally admitted, “I don’t want you to feel…like I don’t love you. Or like I don’t want you.”

Credence sighed and gave Percy another gentle squeeze. He loved this particular cuddling position a lot, with him on his back and Percy tucked up under his arm. It made him feel stronger than he really was, and there was the added satisfaction of knowing it made Percy feel safe—something he rarely admitted he needed.

But now he rolled over on his side and gently cupped Percy’s face in his hands, just the way Percy had done to him before their first kiss. “You’ve _never once_ made me feel unwanted,” he told Percy firmly. “For God’s sake did you not just hear me say I’m not ready for it either?”

“You wanted to try though, I remember what you said the night it happened—”

“But we didn’t do that, and I’m glad, because it would’ve just made things worse. We get to decide this, okay? _We_ decide, together, when we have sex again. I don’t care if that’s tomorrow or ten years from now, the only thing that matters is that we both want it when it happens.”

Percy was quiet for a moment. Then he let out a quiet, shaky laugh and said, “God, when did you get so…fuck, I don’t even know…”

“When did I get so confident, you mean? God, I don’t know…” Credence playfully rolled them over so that Percy was pinned underneath him and teased him with little butterfly kisses all over his face. “Can’t have anything to do with some ridiculous, smart, _beautiful_ man coming along and sweeping me off my feet, could it? Or beating up the guy who hurt said beautiful sexy man which, I won’t lie, felt _really_ good, by the way? Oh, let’s not forget I saved a patient from certain death today…okay, it was a pretend patient, but if he was real I totally would’ve saved him.”

“My hero,” Percy teased, and leaned up to kiss him. “Really, though,” he added as he pulled away and looked earnestly into Credence’s eyes. “I am _so proud of you,_ sweetheart. You have no idea.”

“Right back at you.” Credence rolled over and lay down, smiling to himself as Percy snuggled back up to his side. That Percy allowed himself to be held and comforted now, even if it was only intermittent and he still needed to be reminded sometimes that he was allowed to crave reassurance, thrilled Credence right down to his bones, and he gladly wrapped Percy up in his arms and held him close. _I love this man so much,_ he thought with a dreamy sigh as they both drifted off to sleep. _I love him and I get to keep him forever._

~

The week before spring break, Percy announced they were going on a surprise trip. “So make sure you get everything done you need to get done,” he told Credence. “Homework, extra clinical hours, all of that. Here’s a list of stuff you’ll want to pack and don’t worry about work, I already told Lilah I’m kidnapping you this weekend. Be ready for me at three-thirty on Friday.”

That Thursday night, Queenie came downstairs under the guise of helping him choose what outfits to pack. Really, he knew, she just wanted to spend some time with him; he’d been neglecting her and Jacob and Tina lately, thanks to school and clinicals and of course therapy and Percy.

“I’m sorry,” he told her while she patiently pawed through the food stash in his closet in search of his swimsuit. “I didn’t mean to ditch you guys.”

“You didn’t ditch us, honey.” She held up a box of Kraft mac & cheese. “You know, you don’t have to keep all this down here if you don’t have room for it.”

“I know.” He’d talked about the food stockpile with Ms. Trelawney a couple of times now, but it wasn’t a habit he was quite ready to break. “Um. Yeah. Anyway I’ve just been really busy and—”

“Don’t apologize,” she insisted, putting aside a box of cereal to come over and sit on his bed, where Credence had been folding clean laundry. “You’re doing something really hard, we all know that. Now, if you really do think you’ve got something to make up to me…I _definitely_ wouldn’t mind a little gossip,” she added with a conspiratorial little smile. “How are things with Dr. McDreamy?”

Credence had to smile. Queenie was too good, really. “Um. Well. When I stayed over with him last Saturday after yoga class, um…” He blushed a little as he told her, “I saw a box of hair dye under his sink when I was looking for toothpaste.”

“Ooh. Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised. Teeny says he’s been talking about how he thinks he’s old now,” Queenie said with a roll of her eyes. “As if covering up those cute little gray patches is magically going to make him twenty-five again.”

“I wish he wouldn’t. I like the gray,” Credence admitted. “And I wish he’d stop shaving every day, I think he’d look _amazing_ with a beard. He didn’t shave for a couple of days before our last date, and when he kissed me I could’ve just died.”

“Tell him. Maybe he’ll grow it out for you,” Queenie suggested shamelessly. Then she took a close look at Credence and frowned. “Speaking of growing out, it’s been how long again since you’ve had a haircut?”

“Ugh. Too long,” Credence sighed, looking down in distaste at his hair, which was now well past his shoulders and definitely broken off at the ends.

Queenie was already heading for the stairs. “I’ll get my stuff and be right back. Go get it wet. We’ll get you fixed up before McDreamy sees you again.”

It wasn’t until he’d got out of the shower and finished toweling the worst of the water off his hair, and was taking a good long look in the mirror, that Credence started to think. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, thinking of how much he liked the way Percy looked, and how much he hated that Percy thought he needed to change to be attractive…

He’d grown out his hair in part because he hated his own face—his narrow eyes, big ears, long neck, an upper lip too thin compared to his lower lip—and thought he could hide it behind long hair. But now he couldn’t help but smile as he recalled their first coffee date, how he’d been glad he’d left his hair up because he could show off his jaw, the one feature of his face that he liked. Percy seemed to like the rest of his face too, if the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips off it was any indication.

Credence went out, sat down and let Queenie start combing out and parting his hair. “Just the ends, honey?” she asked as she picked up her scissors.

He hesitated for just a second, and then said _(fuck it, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back if you don’t like it),_ “You know what…about that…I want it shorter. Not _too_ short.” He blushed a little, he couldn’t help it. “Um. I like when Percy touches my hair, so…”

“Not too short,” she promised. And then she went to work, her whole face glowing with excitement.

~

“Oh my God. _Oh my God,_ what did you _do?”_

“You like it?” Credence asked with a little grin, tossing his head a little to show off his newly-cropped hair, which now brushed the nape of his neck instead of cascading over his shoulders.

Percy looked like he’d been struck with an anvil. Dreamy-eyed, he let go of his suitcase handle so he could cup Credence’s face in both hands. “God, you are _so_ beautiful, do you know that?” he breathed, thumbs tenderly stroking along the curve of Credence’s cheeks. Suddenly he withdrew, a bolt of horror breaking through the lovestruck expression on his face. “Did you cut it because of—what happened in January?”

Oh, right. Grindelwald had grabbed his hair during the assault, and Credence now recalled that he’d made the mistake of mentioning that to Percy. Of course it looked like he’d cut his hair to avoid further incidents like that. “No, no, it’s not like that,” he quickly assured Percy. “I’d kept my hair long forever and I wanted a change, that’s all. What do you think, should I keep it like this a while?”

The anxiety immediately drained from Percy’s eyes, leaving the dreamy smile firmly back in place. “Oh, Credence. I _love_ it. This length definitely suits you, I can see that lovely face of yours even better.” He stroked the sharp lines of Credence’s jaw with his thumb, staring at him with unbridled love and longing. “God, you’re beautiful,” he sighed again.

“All right, I get the picture,” Credence laughed. “C’mon, let’s get going. I want to see where you’re taking me.”

It turned out to be what Percy called a “romantic road trip.” They got on the highway and drove two hours, across the border into Ohio, until they came to a fun-looking hotel with a waterpark attached. “Oh!” Credence started to get excited, and then realized, “It’s forty degrees outside, Percy, we can’t—”

“Wait,” Percy promised him with a grin. “You’ll see.”

It turned out there was a full waterpark inside, too. And a spa. And an arcade, escape rooms, laser tag, two minigolf courses, and a mini bowling alley. And a half-dozen restaurants. And…well. It certainly didn’t take long before Credence felt a little overwhelmed, and that was _before_ he saw their suite: a stunning room with a king bed, jacuzzi tub, fireplace, and private balcony.

“You like your surprise?” Percy asked him with a knowing grin.

Credence made an embarrassing squeaky sound. “Um. Yeah?”

Percy laughed and swept him up into a gentle hug. “I thought we could use a little time alone,” he explained as he settled down on the edge of the bed with Credence halfway in his lap. “You’ve been working so hard and we’ve both been through a lot and…you know. I just thought, getting away for a while, even if it’s only a couple of hours and even if it’s only a few days…”

“I love it,” Credence assured him. “I really do. It’s so thoughtful and this place is so cool…even if it’s huge and scary,” he added candidly.

“Aww. Don’t worry love. I won’t let you get lost,” Percy promised him with a smile. “Now come on, let’s get changed and get to that waterpark…I’m guessing you’ve never been to one, have you?”

Credence winced and pulled away so that he was completely off Percy’s lap and on the bed. “Um. Actually I did, with the girls once, but I didn’t—I couldn’t, um, well. They wouldn’t let guys wear shirts on the slides, so…”

“Oh, Credence…baby, I’m sorry, I should’ve thought…hey, no, don’t look like that. Come back here.” Percy scooted in close and made Credence look up at him. “It’s okay. We’ll stop by one of the stores and get you a rash guard to wear on the slides. But for what it’s worth, sweetheart, no one will notice your scars.”

“You mean they won’t say anything, they’ll just stare."

“They won’t even look. Trust me, no one in there is going to be thinking about anything other than having a good time. But come on, let’s go see if we can find something for you in the swim shop.” Percy stood up and gently tugged Credence to his feet. “I promise you…we are _definitely_ going to have fun here. I’ll make sure of that.”

~

By eleven that night, Graves knew Credence had to be absolutely exhausted. They’d spent hours in the waterpark, and once Credence got over the initial shock of being zoomed down a plastic tube on an inflatable raft, he did greatly enjoy himself. They’d eaten a ridiculously big dinner at the poolside restaurant and played a round of glow-in-the-dark golf before retiring to their room.

All in all, good day, Graves thought with a kind of fatigued triumph as he left the bathroom, toweling his hair off after rinsing out the pool water. He stopped short when he saw Credence, still very naked (he assumed) under the tiny hotel towel that barely covered him up, sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi tub rubbing some very good-smelling lotion onto his skin…perched at just such an angle as to leave very little to the imagination.

“Oh,” Credence blurted out, his face turning neon red as he saw Graves standing there. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I thought you’d take longer—”

“No, no it’s fine, ah. I just…” Graves flailed a little, pinning his own towel a little more tightly around his waist and wondering if maybe he should’ve brought some clothes into the bathroom.

And at that thought something inside him snapped, and he let out a laugh borne more of relief than amusement. Because really, this was absurd. “Respecting each other” did not have to mean “blush, stammer, and avoid each other like a pair of heterosexual idiots forced to share a room in a TV rom-com.”

Credence seemed to reach that conclusion at the same time, because he stood up slowly, the blush receding to just the higher parts of his cheeks. With a shy smile he offered, “You can look. If you want to. I mean…I don’t mind.” He laughed too, a little self-consciously. “Um. Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?”

Graves carefully halved the distance between them. “Is this all right?” When Credence nodded he took another cautious step forward. “Still okay, love?”

“Percy, stop.” Obediently Graves stopped right where he was, his heart twisting at the anxious look on his fiance’s face. “Don’t ask before every move. I don’t need you to do that, it just—it’s just a—a reminder. And one I don’t want.”

“What _do_ you want?”

Credence looked at him with mingled longing and frustration, a look Graves knew he’d worn frequently himself in the early days of their courtship, back when he wasn’t even sure if he could have sex at all without an anxiety attack. “I want you to take off that towel and let me hold you,” he decided. “And if something comes of it, fine, if not, that’s fine too. I just—” He chewed his lower lip for a good ten seconds before finally concluding, “I just want to feel your skin against mine again.”

With his heart pounding, Graves untucked the corner of his towel and let it drop. Credence stared at him briefly, tongue flicking over his lips in a way that was more nervous than sexy, before he did the same. “On the bed?” Graves suggested cautiously. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, “Are you _sure_ you’re ready for this?”

Credence nodded, already backing up in the direction of the bed. “Maybe I am. Maybe we both are,” said as his eyes roamed hungrily over Graves’ body while he fumbled one-handed with the bedclothes. “Or maybe we’re building this up into something bigger than it needs to be. Either way I just—I want to be close to you. Even if nothing else happens.”

The silky-soft sheets felt wonderful against Graves’ clean, still-damp skin. But that was nothing compared to the sheer heaven of having a naked Credence in his bed again—a naked, willing, and very _considerate_ Credence, at that. Because he _was_ considerate, and exceedingly gentle.

First just their ankles touched. Then their legs slowly tangled together, Credence’s sharp hip pressing against the softest part of Graves’ abdomen, and then he found all of Credence’s long limbs wrapped around him, sweet and protective and, to his utter joy, achingly and beautifully familiar. It was as if their bodies sighed in relief at the contact. It was the first time they’d been truly naked together since the day Grindelwald assaulted Credence, and—

“Oh God,” Graves breathed quietly as he felt their hips press together. “Oh. Oh, love…it’s…”

“Can I kiss you?” Credence asked, his voice quivering. “Can I roll us over and hold you underneath me and kiss you? I’ll stop if it doesn’t feel good, I swear.”

“Do it, do it, just—just—the usual rules apply. Gently, please, and don’t touch my neck with your hands.”

“I won’t,” Credence promised, and then he was half on top of Graves, one arm under his shoulders and the other tenderly stroking the slight indent of his waist, and the moment their mouths connected, as if on instinct Graves completely gave in to the kiss.

 _Let him devour me,_ he thought, pleasure pulsing through him and setting every drop of his blood on fire. _Let him have it, have me, I don’t care. Absorb me, Credence, take everything I have to give. It’s always been yours anyway. You’re mine and I want you and I want you to want me too._

Graves willingly opened his mouth when Credence sought entry, moaning softly at the first taste of his boy’s tongue that he had in _months._ His mind went soft and hazy around the edges, a familiar warmth creeping through his veins. His body wanted this, _craved_ this. He could feel Credence’s cock stirring, filling out against his leg, and just the knowledge that their kisses were arousing to Credence made him ache in the most delicious way. Every point of contact felt like fire, pleasure sparking along his skin everywhere Credence touched like electric shocks of desire. Oh God, he hadn’t let himself think about how much he missed this, but now that he had it back he wondered how he’d ever lived without it.

Because yes, they had touched over the last two and a half months. They had kissed each other, held each other, given each other tender backrubs and seen each other shirtless, but not like _this._ Not naked, and certainly not with raw, crackling desire sparking between them. Their touches up to now had been intended to comfort and reassure. This…this was different. This was _sexy._

“Do you want to make love tonight, sweetheart?” he offered breathlessly when, after an eternity, the kiss ended and all he could feel was the warm, familiar weight on top of him and the gentle glide of Credence’s hand on his side.

Credence, to his amazement, actually considered it. His eyes were heavily lidded, his face flushed, lips swollen and red just from their one kiss. But he still thought before he answered, “I don’t know. Is that…bad? I want you,” he added quickly, as if he were afraid he’d offended Graves, “and God, yeah, this feels great, but…”

“Okay. Okay, we don’t have to, I just. I thought…” Graves hesitantly reached up and gently cupped his palm around Credence’s cheek. “Have I told you today that you’re beautiful, love? Because. Jesus. You’re enough to make a man lose his mind.”

Credence smiled and lay down, tucking his head into the curve of Percy’s neck. “You’ve told me, yeah. But. You know. Nice to be reminded and all that,” he said teasingly.

For a long while they lay there like that, until the immediate novelty of being naked and vulnerable together began to wear off and they became reacquainted with the sensation of full-body skin-to-skin contact. Graves melted into the mattress a little more with each passing moment, his body slowly recalling just how deeply it loved being this close and exposed to Credence.

After a few minutes, or maybe an hour, or maybe a few actual days—who knew?—Credence sighed longingly and began to trace gentle patterns on Graves’ chest with his fingertips. “I think I know what I want now. If it’s something you’d be willing to think about. And just…it’s not just for tonight, okay? If you don’t want to do this tonight but you think you wouldn’t mind someday, I’m okay with that.”

“Okay,” Graves agreed, already intrigued. “Lay it on me then, love. What is it you want?”

Credence took a deep breath, lifted his head, and stared into Graves’ eyes as he said, very calmly and matter-of-factly, something Graves never thought in a million years he would _ever_ hear.

“Percy, I want you to top me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Discussed sexual assault TW spoilers: Multiple allusions are made to Grindelwald's attempt to force himself on Credence. Sex is discussed frankly, and Graves worries that he's "holding out on Credence" and making him wait (in reality, they both aren't feeling ready for further intimacy yet). At the end of the chapter they do attempt a sexual encounter; no mention is made of panic attacks or flashbacks, but both of them do tiptoe around it and are careful to not "trigger" each other. Mention of institutionalized victim-blaming as well, as it is mentioned that while the school of nursing commends Credence for fighting back and turning in Grindelwald, Macusa as a hospital is furious with Graves for putting a beloved employee in prison. Essentially the whole chapter is about their recovery from everything GG did to them both, and they are shown going to trauma-informed yoga as a way to cope with what happened -- most of this is very positive and affirming; consent-heavy language, mentions of multiple forms of therapy and healthy coping mechanisms, etc. 
> 
> -Medical procedure TW spoilers: At the beginning of the chapter Nagini and Credence simulate giving a mannequin a blood transfusion. It's implied that the "patient" is throwing up blood, and they put a tube down his throat to stop it. No *actual* blood, just some generically potentially icky medical stuff.
> 
> -Abuse TW spoilers: Credence's scars come to light again while he and Percy are on vacation at a waterpark. Credence insists it's necessary to hide the scars and thinks people will judge him for them. Another allusion is made to Credence's food stockpile and he acknowledges that it's problematic but also admits to himself that he isn't quite ready to tackle that issue just yet.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BACK!!!!
> 
> Man, this chapter gave me so much trouble y'all have no idea XP BUT BUT BUT. I'm almost doneeeee with school! :D :D :D
> 
> Nursing junk for this chapter:  
> ADON = assistant director of nursing  
> DON = director of nursing  
> Pretty self explanatory - but important note, a DNP (doctorate of nurse practice) can work as an independent practitioner under the supervision of a physician. Since Graves works directly under Dumbledore, he *technically* would answer to him instead of the director of nursing, even though he is also technically still a nurse. (This shit gets complicated, doesn't it? Imagine being tested on it lol) ;)
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -General TW for mentions/references to rape and sexual assault; the recovery aspect is discussed a little more in-depth in this chapter  
> -Sex scene between two survivors of sexual assault  
> -Victim-blaming of the institutional/workplace variety  
> -Discussions of pregnancy, babies, and gender/sex-reveal parties
> 
> See end notes for descriptions/spoilers :)

Percy looked like he’d been knocked over the head. “You—what?” He let out a shaky little laugh. “God, Credence. I didn’t think you’d ever want that.”

“I didn’t think I did either,” Credence admitted. “I thought it sounded painful, and scary and—I don’t know, like—being violated, almost—when we first talked about it. But then…then I saw the way it made you feel, and how you just _let go_ when we do it, and—” He tightened his grip on Percy, just a little, as he went on, “When he attacked me, it changed things. And I—I _want_ to be vulnerable with you now, because it’s _you_ and I—I want to know how it feels, when you—”

He broke off again, not sure how to say it. But Percy understood. He rolled them over so that Credence lay beneath him, looking at him with such tenderness in his eyes that Credence thought his heart may well explode. “You want me to take over,” Percy translated. “You don’t want to have to be in control tonight.”

Credence nodded, relieved to not have to put it into words, and reached up and cupped his palm around Percy’s cheek. “Have you ever—”

“A few times. Not for a long, long time. But,” and here his lips quirked into a smile, “I’m pretty sure I can remember the basic mechanics of it.”

They started off slow, kissing and cuddling, easing back into their former intimacy. Credence closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the moment. He’d missed sex, he really had…but something about the whole situation suddenly felt alien, and Credence wasn’t sure he liked it. But why? He liked feeling Percy’s weight on him; it always made him feel so warm and protected when they slept, why was this different? He tried to think. _Did_ anything about this remind him of—no. No, he was _not_ going to think about Grindelwald right now. He’d said his piece about that and it was time to let it go. Tonight was about _them,_ not _him._

“Still with me, sweetheart?” Percy murmured against the hollow of his throat. “I can feel your heart going a mile a minute.”

Right. This was not just about him. Guilt blossomed in the pit of Credence’s stomach as he remembered Percy had far, _far_ more reason to be nervous now than he did. _You were_ almost _hurt, he_ was _hurt,_ he reminded himself sternly. _You can do this. It was your idea, now chill out. It’s Percy. He won’t hurt you._ “I’m fine,” he said. “Just, um. Just in my head a little, I guess.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Keep kissing me, I just need…I think I just need to relax. I’m okay.”

“Okay, love. If you’re sure…”

They kissed again, unhurried and gentle and _wonderful,_ and Credence felt his body relaxing, felt the first real stirrings of arousal in his belly as Percy held him like he might break. His mouth was so familiar, warm and sweet, and Credence felt so good he almost wanted to cry. This was good, right, he could _do_ this—

Percy’s hand cradled the back of his neck, fingers stroking the base of his skull, and Credence moaned low and needy into his mouth. Percy grinned against his lips and Credence felt another dizzying rush of arousal…and then he felt the hand on the back of his neck tangle into his hair and gently tug.

A phantom throb echoed through his head, the sense memory of pain pounding through his skull, and his entire body jolted as adrenaline coursed through him. Percy immediately responded in kind, pulling all the way back to kneel beside him, both hands clasped over his mouth in horror as he realized what he’d done. “Oh God,” he gasped, the words muffled in his fingers. “Oh Credence, I—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Credence snapped, and rolled into a ball, his face half pressed into the pillow and his eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t want to—just get back down here,” he demanded, his words at odds with the fact that he was curled up like an armadillo. Disappointment welled inside him, hot and irrational, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes.

“Look at me,” Percy ordered in his stern “Dr. Graves” voice, and Credence reluctantly opened one eye. “Listen, Credence,” Percy said, a little more gently, “before the thing with Grindelwald, I used to like it when my partners held me by the throat during sex, did I ever tell you that?”

Slowly, Credence turned his head up enough to make eye contact. “You jump ten feet if I touch the front of your neck.”

“Yeah, well. Being choked and hurled to the floor will do that to you,” Percy said patiently. Telegraphing his movements to an almost comical extreme, he petted Credence on the head, carefully combing out his hair with his fingertips. “See, you don’t mind this, do you. But when I pulled it upset you, because you weren’t expecting it. Sweetheart, _he hurt you._ You’re going to be affected by that, I’m afraid.”

“But—” He sounded so childish, pathetic. “But I _like_ when you touch my hair when we’re…” Tears welled in his eyes, to his own horror, at the thought of Percy never clutching a handful of his hair, his face buried in Credence’s neck as they fucked like the world was ending, ever again.

“Oh, Credence…come here.” Percy lay down and pulled him in close. “It’ll get better,” he promised softly. “I know it’s…disorienting right now. I’ve been where you are and trust me, I know how much it sucks.”

“I don’t want—I want to be _okay,”_ was all Credence could come up with in the way of an explanation. “I’m _going to therapy,_ and Trelawney said I was doing okay, and I’m _fine,_ I don’t have nightmares about it or—”

“And that’s _good,”_ Percy cut him off. “You’re doing so well, love. No one expects you to be fully recovered less than three months after it happened.”

“But _nothing_ happened!” Credence protested.

“Really? Nothing? You’re telling me he _didn’t_ grab you, throw you down, rip your clothes, and try to fuck you after you said no to him?” Credence was silent, and Percy said firmly, “Yeah, I thought so. Listen, even just _asking_ me to top you? That’s _huge._ And I understand why you want it…you want me to make you feel safe, and I’m trying, but if you won’t admit when you feel afraid or need to stop, this isn’t going to work. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Credence let himself cling to Percy like a koala, face pressed close into his neck, arms wrapped around him tight. “I want to keep going,” he said, and felt Percy’s grip on him tighten. “I don’t want to be afraid. I want _you._ Please.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Sh-h-h, you’re shaking. Easy there.” Percy lay him back and kissed him again, slow and gentle and full of promise. Credence kissed back almost frantically. “Just relax,” Percy said soothingly when they came up for air. “I’m going to make it good for you, all right? Just let me take care of you.”

They eased back into it, with slow careful kisses gradually giving way to a lazy yet passionate make-out. Percy’s hands wandered, carefully stroking and teasing all the places that made Credence shudder and moan. “Nice and easy now,” Percy murmured as he kissed his way down Credence’s body, pausing to tease Credence’s nipples with his tongue, then dip into his belly button, muffling his laugh against Credence’s stomach when his actions drew a helpless moan. “If you don’t like anything I do, stop me, all right baby?”

“Okay,” Credence promised faintly, only to whimper helplessly as Percy’s mouth attached itself to the inside of his thigh.

Percy spent a little time down there between Credence’s legs, kissing and teasing his cock stroking across his entrance with just the tips of his fingers—“just getting you used to it,” he explained, and then winced when he tried to slip in a fingertip and Credence writhed away from the touch like he’d been burned.

“I’m sorry,” he said, almost in tears, the third time it happened. “I want this, I do, I don’t know why…”

“We don’t have to do it this way,” Percy assured him. “We don’t have to have penetrative sex at all tonight, or _ever,_ if this is too much.”

“No! No, I want to, you don’t understand, hell, _I_ don’t understand!” Credence sat up, tears welling in his eyes, looking helplessly at Percy. “I want to—I really want to do this, I can’t explain why but feel like we have to, I—please, please don’t make me stop, it’s—it’s not just about wanting sex, it’s—”

Frustrated at not being able to explain what he meant he turned away. Percy’s hand landed on his back, stroking his spine with incredible tenderness. “Okay, my heart. We’ll figure it out,” Percy assured him.

Credence stilled at the feeling of Percy’s hand on his back. “Wait. Don’t—don’t stop.” The memory of Grindelwald touching his scars flashed in his mind and suddenly he _knew._ “Oh. _Oh,_ I know why. Okay. You’re not going to like this—”

“I’ll deal. What is it you need, baby? Just tell me,” Percy coaxed, scooting over to him and rubbing his shoulders with both hands.

“I don’t want to be on my back. I know you have this thing about seeing each other’s faces and I understand, I just—I want it like this.”

Credence was about to explain why, but Percy was already kneeling behind him, mouthing sweetly at his neck, hands stroking up and down his ribcage as his chest pressed to Credence’s back, completely covering the scars with his own body. “Anything you want,” he promised tenderly. 

“It won’t—hurt you?” Credence asked anxiously.

“Oh sweetheart, no…I don’t like being fucked from behind, but if you want that it’s fine; we don’t have to like the same things,” Percy quickly assured him.

So Credence lay on his belly, clutching a pillow while Percy slid another under his hips, and melted into the bed when Percy stroked his back “Tell me…tell me you don’t mind the scars,” he pleaded quietly. “I know, I just. I need to hear it.”

Percy obligingly mapped out Credence’s shoulders and neck and lower back with his hands, then his lips. “You’re so beautiful, stunning, fucking _incredible._ I promise there is _nothing_ about you that turns me off.”

This time when his finger slid inside Credence felt calm, ready for it, and he didn’t flinch away as Percy opened him up, with plenty of sweet nothings whispered in his ear and distracting kisses to his neck and back along the way.

And then, two fingers deep, Percy hit something that made Credence squirm like he never had before. “ _Oh…_ Percy, that’s…” He couldn’t find the words for it, he just knew he didn’t wait it to stop, ever. Percy gave him a little time to get used to the feeling of two fingers before he added another, and this time he pressed in with intent, feeling around for _that_ spot. “Oh! Oh _God_ ,” Credence moaned, gripping the pillow as he tried desperately to press back into the feeling. “Oh, do that again, I— _yes there_ , oh— _ohhh_ , please don’t stop—”

“Want me to make you come like this?” Percy offered as he thrust his fingers in and out, repeatedly nudging against whatever he was touching that made Credence see stars.

“No, no, wait—I want you. Please. All of you.” Percy obediently withdrew, and the next thing Credence felt was warmth on top of him and all around him. Percy was shorter, but he was heavier and that was exactly what Credence needed, to feel Percy on top of him all warm and heavy and _safe._ “Please, please,” he urged Percy, his heart racing. “I need you, _please—”_

Percy laughed quietly against the back of his neck. “What happened to ‘painful and awkward?’” he teased.

“That was before I knew how good it felt— _please,_ Percy.”

“Of course lovely. Anything you want.” He slid in one agonizing centimeter at a time, giving Credence time to get used to the fullness, the stretch. “Still all right, sweetheart? Not afraid?”

“No. Keep going.”

When he was fully inside Credence, Percy let out a low groan and let his head drop against the back of Credence’s neck. “All right, lovely? Not in any pain?”

“No,” Credence moaned, head flung back, pushing back against Percy and desperately chasing the sensation. “No, it feels _amazing.”_

“Mmm…see?” Percy pressed hot, messy kisses to Credence’s back as he moved in and out, slow and torturous until Credence was on the verge of begging him to go faster. “When you want this, really want it…it doesn’t hurt. It’s _hot_ , isn’t it?” He continued gliding in and out, brushing _that spot_ with every thrust. “And _you_ are incredibly hot too. Mmm. I could do this all…night…long.”

Credence had long given up stifling his moans in the pillow. “Faster,” he gasped. “Faster, h-harder… _please…”_

Percy sat up and pulled Credence with him, so they were flush against each other on their knees, and held him firmly by the hips, pushing in and out so fast Credence could barely keep up. He dropped back to all fours, fists clenching in the sheets as frantic little _ah-ahs_ spilled from his throat, his entire body nearly vibrating with how incredibly good he felt..

“I’m close,” he gasped, and then, “ _Oh God Percy yes_ , so good— _ohhhh_!” With a primal cry he came, collapsing back to his stomach as he was crushed by a tidal wave of pleasure. Behind him he heard a familiar moan and felt a rush of warmth inside him. He lay still as he shivered through the aftershocks, nearly catatonic from the combination of his volcanic orgasm and the sensation of Percy’s release inside him. “I love you,” he gasped when he could speak.

“Oh God. I love you too, sweet thing. So much.” Percy sounded as wrecked as he felt. He withdrew slowly, and Credence whimpered at the loss of that warmth inside him. “I know, baby. I know. Just stay here, all right? Just relax.” 

Percy disappeared and returned moments later, and Credence felt something warm and damp against his skin. Still loose-limbed and dizzy from the sudden hard climax, he gladly submitted to be cleaned and dressed in his pajamas. When they were both clean, dry, and changed, Percy slipped back into bed, and Credence wasted no time in curling up against his chest. “That was incredible,” he sighed as Percy stroked his hair. “Amazing. Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure, sweetheart. Actually, I should be thanking you,” Percy admitted with a sheepish little laugh. “I forgot how much fun it can be to top someone.”

“Good.” Credence tucked his head up under Percy’s chin and let his eyes flutter closed. He took stock of himself, of the ways different parts of his body felt, and found that he felt…good. A little sore, maybe, but no more so than after yoga class. No anxiety, no regret. He felt…soft. Something inside him had cracked open, had spilled out what was left of his inhibition and left him feeling open and exposed in a way that was unfamiliar…but not at all unpleasant.

He understood now, he thought sleepily as Percy continued to pet and stroke his hair and the back of his neck, why Percy liked it…liked being fucked, that is…it really wasn’t bad. It was…intense. But definitely the good kind of intense. Credence sighed deeply, as if the air were drawn out of him by some external force, and with another blink of his eyes he was asleep, lost in dreams that were almost (but not quite) as sweet as what awaited him when he awoke.

~

“All right, loverboy. Spill it.”

Graves rolled his eyes at Lilah, who was sitting across from him looking like a five-year-old who’d just gotten away with stealing an entire cookie jar. “You do know we’re not in high school, right?” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“You’ve heard the song, ‘high school never ends.’” She ripped open a king-size bag of M&Ms, scooped up a handful, and shoved the rest across the table at him. “Here, eat. Talk. Don’t make me tickle it out of you.”

“I’ll strangle you with my stethoscope, I swear.”

“Love to see you try it, Casanova. Now come on. I want details.”

They were sitting in the sunny courtyard outside the food court, because it was finally warm enough to do that provided one stayed out of the shade. It was Graves’ first day back to work after the short vacation he’d taken with Credence so, naturally, Lilah pounced on him on their lunch break.

With a heavy sigh, as if he were doing her a favor, Graves picked out a few green M&Ms and said, “Well, I took him to Kalahari Resort, if you _must_ know.”

“Ooh. Classy. No second-best Great Wolf Lodge here. Only the best for your boy,” she teased. And then her eyes glittered when she saw— “Oh. My. _God._ Percival Graves, are you _blushing?”_

“No,” he said, meaning _yes._

She shot him a meaningful look. “Okay, so you two—wow. Was that the first time since…?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, and she gave a dreamy-eyed sigh that made him laugh. “It wasn’t that big a deal. God, you and Seraphina…when I told her where I’d been all weekend she acted like we’d eloped.”

“You mean you didn’t?” She made a show of inspecting his left hand. “Damn. And here I thought you were a man of action.”

“No way,” he said firmly. “We agreed, no wedding talk until he’s graduated. The ring is just—I don’t know. A talisman, I guess. I wanted him to have something he could see, some…some real, physical kind of reminder that he’s…”

He trailed off, but good old Lilah understood. “That he’s loved,” she finished softly, and he nodded. “Aww. That’s sweet. And for what it’s worth, _he’s_ just walking on sunshine today…you should come down and see him when you’re done. He was literally singing while he unpacked the totes this morning.”

Graves cracked up at the image of Credence singing in the pharmacy. “Oh good lord. As someone who’s heard his singing…you have my sympathy.”

“Well, well. If it isn’t the Grim Reaper.”

The laughter immediately dried up. Lilah glared at Abernathy, the pain in the ass ADON, while Graves sighed internally and made himself count to five before he turned his head to look at the man. “What can I do for you, Abernathy?”

“You could resign. That would do us all a favor,” Abernathy said icily. “You goddamn hypocrite. You’re going around sleeping with students while you get Gellert thrown out for doing the same.”

Graves froze, Abernathy’s words hitting him like a bucket of ice-water. Some of the upper crust could keep their disdain for him mostly in check, just take it out on him with longer hours or higher-acuity assignments. But some, like Abernathy (who had been a very close friend of Grindelwald and thought he was the best of the best) couldn’t quite keep it to themselves.

Graves had endured with some degree of acceptance the insults and petty acts of retaliation that came his way. He and Credence mostly kept their relationship quiet at Macusa and only those who’d known from the start (and recently, Albus and Remus) had any idea that the student whom Grindelwald had assaulted, was dating the very same infamous Dr. Graves who gave the testimony that had put him away for good.

But it sounded like they knew now. Or at least Abernathy did. And he wasn’t letting up. “Tell me,” Abernathy said as Graves got to his feet, “are you actually still maintaining that whole ‘rapist’ bullshit story, or are you ever gonna man up and admit you’re just pissed at your little whore for cheating on you—”

“Watch it,” Lilah said sharply, and she too stood to face Abernathy.

“We all know the kid just made a pass at Gellert and was upset he got rejected, that’s what the fight was about,” Abernathy snapped. “Trying to sleep his way into a decent job, most likely. Worked out real well for him, didn’t it?”

“How dare you!” Lilah’s eyes flashed; she didn’t get angry often but Graves had seen firsthand what she was like when her people were threatened, and Credence, as both her employee and her friend’s partner, was definitely “her people.” “If you knew Credence, you’d never say something like that, you jackass!”

She was inching closer, ready to lunge, but Graves threw out an arm to stop her. “Don’t bother, Ly, he’s not worth it,” he told her quietly, and faced Abernathy. “Credence did nothing wrong. You can say what you like about me, Abernathy, it doesn’t matter. I work under Dr. Dumbledore, not the DON. You can’t touch me, you can’t hurt me. But if you do anything to Credence, I will—”

“Get me fired like you did to Gellert?” Abernathy sneered. He rolled his eyes. “You’re a whore, Graves. You and your little fucking toy—honestly, if you were both to drop dead you’d do Macusa and the rest of the world a favor. Gellert was twice the nurse you are.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Graves said, but the words came out automatically, robotic, with no real bite to them. He saw Abernathy stalk away, but felt no relief at his departure. Any traces of his good mood was gone. The earth felt as if it were crumbling under his feet, but he had no will to move to solid ground.

A hand rested on the small of his back. “Hey, Graves? You with me?” came Lilah’s voice. “Do you want me to get Credence?”

Graves sighed and shook his head, trying to clear the sudden heavy dull fog from his mind. “They know now,” he breathed. “They’ll all think it’s some kind of conspiracy or—fuck. _Fuck,_ I’ll have to resign, won’t I.” The realization burned. He didn’t love Macusa, but God, he wanted to stay. Credence was likely as not to have at least one more clinical in this place, and he wanted to be there—

He felt something solid under him. Lilah had eased him back into a chair. “I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help.”

He took another shaking deep breath and leaned his head against her shoulder, drawing as much comfort from her as he could. “I don’t think you can,” he said hollowly. “It’s my fault…I fucking knew…but I had to…” He raised his eyes to hers. “I knew they’d freeze me out if I told. But…Lilah… _Credence.”_

Lilah pulled him in close, letting him lean on her, and patted his back as she assured him softly, “I know, Percy. I know. You did the right thing.”

She never called him _Percy._ “Don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t feel sorry for me, I can’t take it.”

“Oh God no. I don’t feel sorry for you at all. I think you’re a goddamn badass, are you kidding me?” She drew back, kneeling on the grass as she cupped her hand around his face and made him look her in the eyes. “You can get another job,” she said firmly. “But you can’t replace Credence. _You did right,_ okay? You did what you had to do. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

He wanted, so badly, to be comforted by her words. So he did what he could do now, that he couldn’t have done five years ago when it all began: he let her hold him until he felt strong enough to keep going.

~

Credence hadn’t known it was possible to passive-aggressively ice a cake until he entered the Goldsteins’ giant kitchen and saw Queenie doing it, and he had to bite back a laugh. Tina was leaning against the counter, one hand resting absently over her growing belly, hardly bothering to hide her amusement as Newt finished his rant: “…so yes, if you could please just stop referring to it as a _gender reveal,_ I’d appreciate it, because the fact is all we’re finding out tomorrow is whether or not our baby has XX or XY chromosomes.”

Queenie sighed and put down the spatula that she was using to smooth a thick layer of fudge frosting over the cake. “Newt, honey,” she said very patiently, “all I said was, ‘do you want me to use pink and blue to decorate the cake, or do you want me to do it in rainbow colors.’”

“Ignore him,” Tina said dryly. “He’s just nervous as all get out about finding out the gender and thinks he can hide it by talking about biology.”

“For the last _bloody_ time we are not finding out the gender, we are finding out the sex, they are _not_ interchangeable—”

“Do rainbow, Queenie. Pastel rainbow, if you don’t mind,” Tina decided. “And you, Newt, calm down.”

“I am perfectly calm, I’ll have you know,” Newt insisted, rather undercutting his assertion by pacing across the kitchen. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ll have you know that I am placing absolutely no expectations whatsoever on this child, regardless of their organs, so it really doesn’t matter.”

Queenie sighed again. “Do you want me to just tell you what the sex is now?”

Newt shrugged. “If you like. As long as we still get to eat the cake, that is. Tool of an oppressive gender binary or not, that cake was baked by Jacob so I’m certain it’s delicious.”

Credence set down his backpack and took a seat. Queenie winked as she slid the empty fudge bowl to him along with a spoon. “Good day today, honey?”

“Very good. I got to go to the partial-hospitalization program today…for mental health clinical,” he explained in response to Queenie’s quizzical look. “It’s like, all day therapy, basically.”

“Are you okay?” Tina asked, her _protect Credence Barebone_ instinct on full blast.

Credence offered her a tired smile and nodded. “Yeah. It’s exhausting listening in on group therapy…there were kids in there a lot younger than I was when you got me out with very similar stories…but I’m fine. I love this class, honestly, and I didn’t think I would.”

“I liked mental health,” Newt said thoughtfully as he sat down at the table opposite Credence. “It wasn’t my favorite class, I liked assessment and critical care much better, but it was nice.”

“I’ll refrain from making the obvious joke,” Tina said with a giggle. “Credence, do you know if Graves is coming to the brunch party tomorrow?”

“I’ll take ‘words I never thought I’d hear Tina say’ for $200, Alex,” Jacob quipped as he came up from the basement carrying several boxes of mason jars. “Heya, Credence. Good day at school?”

“Great day. No, Tina, I don’t know if he’s coming. He’s been kind of weird since we got back from our trip.” Credence sighed and shook his head. “He always does this. We’ll have a really good like…break from it all, you know, a vacation or holiday or something, and he’ll be super happy, then crash when it’s over.”

“Then let’s give him something new to look forward to,” Queenie suggested with a smile. “You know you two are getting a wedding shower, so you’d better tell me what you want now, or I’ll put in the order for a champagne fountain.”

“Oh my God please don’t!” Credence begged her, but he was laughing; he knew she wouldn’t really do that to him. He looked out the window. The weather had been getting steadily nicer since spring break. “Can we have, I don’t know, a picnic or something at the park? Or is that…I don’t know, some weird breach of wedding etiquette?”

“We can do a picnic if that’s what you want. How about the Saturday after your finals, will that be okay?”

“Fantastic.” He finished scraping out the fudge bowl and stood up. “And on that note, I have to go hide downstairs and study. I just wanted to say hi.”

“You go right ahead, but first…” Jacob pulled something out of the fridge and tossed it over. Credence caught it automatically and smiled when he saw what it was: a plastic-wrapped peanut butter sandwich on homemade sourdough bread. “I know, I know,” Jacob said, when Tina opened her mouth to say something. _“Not a kid,_ you don’t have to tell me, Tina. But I’ll feel better if I know he’s eating. Trade school’s a hard damn thing, you know.”

Credence shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Jacob.”

“I have to protest the implication that nursing school is _trade school,”_ Newt said, still watching Queenie decorate the cake with an eagle eye. “One doesn’t graduate trade school with a bachelor of science.”

“It’s the same thing as when I went to culinary school,” Jacob started, and then rolled his eyes at Newt’s responding indignant yelp. “No, just hear me out—”

Credence slipped away in the ensuing debate and settled down in his basement apartment to study, trying and failing to not laugh at the ridiculousness of his family.

At the baby shower brunch the next day, Percy did in fact turn up looking much happier than he had after work the previous day, but Credence didn’t have a chance to talk to him during the party; he was too busy helping Jacob and Queenie with the food. It wasn’t until after the gifts had been opened and the brunch had been eaten, and they were about to cut the cake, that he managed to snatch a moment with Percy.

“Are you okay?” he asked, point-blank, as he pulled Percy into the nearest closet. They wouldn’t be missed for a good few minutes, he figured; Newt was explaining to the guests (who all had already heard the speech at least once, but were polite enough to not say so) that they were finding out the _sex_ of the baby, not the _gender,_ and he was only doing this because Tina wanted it and really, why did anyone care about whether the baby was male or female?

Percy nodded and squeezed his hands. “I'm fine. Just a long day yesterday.”

“You always get so depressed when we come off a holiday or a trip—I just—”

But Percy had apparently tired of the conversation, because next thing Credence knew he was pinned against the wall of the closet and kissed within an inch of his life. “I am _fine,”_ Percy whispered against his lips between deliciously messy kisses. “And I’m so tired of you worrying over me, you know that? I’m so tired of—fuck, I just—” He pulled Credence in close and held him like a lifeline. “I’m okay,” he murmured into Credence’s hair. “I’m okay. _We’re_ okay,” he said like he was trying to convince himself.

Credence knew that feeling only too well. “Percy—”

“Sweetheart, please.” Percy held onto him tight. “Please let me be happy with you right now, okay? This is a good day. I want it to stay good. All right?”

It was exactly what he’d said over Christmas break, and Credence recognized the circumstances: whatever was going on at work hurt too much for Percy to talk about it, for the moment anyway, and he wanted to forget. Credence understood. He could definitely respect that. “Okay. Um. But we’re kind of missing the party in here, so—”

“Right, right. Let’s go see what flavor of tiny human my best friend has spawned,” Percy said as he reluctantly let go and opened the closet door. “Five bucks says it’s a girl.”

“I don’t gamble.”

“Okay, fine, how about this: if it’s a girl you top tonight, if it’s a boy I do.”

“You’re ridiculous!”

“Yeah but you love me, so what does that make you?” Percy teased him, and Credence couldn’t argue with that, so he just made a _sh-h-h_ gesture as they rejoined the party. Amazingly, Newt was still talking, the knife nowhere near the cake. “He’s nervous as all fucking hell,” Percy mumured sympathetically. “Poor guy. I think I know why, too…he really wants a daughter.”

“Well why doesn’t he just—”

“Because Newt doesn’t process things like a normal human, that’s why. You should’ve seen him in college,” Percy said with a roll of his eyes. “He processes anxiety and fear by _not shutting the fuck up ever._ Try watching a horror movie with him sometime, when we saw _Orphan_ I thought he was gonna get us kicked out of the theat—oh here we go!”

Having apparently tired of Newt’s rambling, Tina had grabbed the knife and shoved it unceremoniously into the cake. Credence couldn’t suppress a giggle; her face just screamed _do I have to do everything myself?_ She cut the cake open with barely-masked impatience, which changed to delight when pink M&Ms spilled out of the center.

There was a general shout of approval, followed by a cooing “Awww, you’re having a little girl!” from Chief Johnson and an “Aw, _yeah!”_ from Jacob.

Meanwhile Tina pulled Newt in for a celebratory kiss that, in very un-Tina-like fashion, quickly turned PG-13. Amidst the wolf-whistles she pulled back, held his face in her hands, and told him firmly, “We are _having a daughter,_ and I _know_ this was what you wanted so _be quiet and enjoy it._ Turn off the biologist part of your brain for five minutes and turn on dad-brain, okay? Look, she’s kicking”—Tina grabbed his hand and put it over her belly—“she can’t wait to meet you, too.”

It was a sappy Hallmark movie moment, even more so when Credence looked over and saw tears in Percy’s eyes. But that didn’t make his heart feel any less full as Percy caught him up for a kiss, celebrating as if they’d just found out they were having a baby of their own.

~

Graves waited until after their second round to broach the topic he’d been dreading. He didn’t _want_ to—he was very happy to be in a boneless, quivering heap with his head resting right over Credence’s still-racing heart, with Credence’s belly rising and falling under his palm as they both slowly came down from the high of their lovemaking—but he felt like he needed to say something and, well. Now, when they were both high on endorphins, was as good a time as any.

“How would you feel if I left Macusa?” he asked, and then winced when the hand that had, up to that point, been very tenderly stroking his hair went still. “No, I’m sorry, you’re right, I—”

“It’s bad, isn’t it.” Credence sounded anxious, and it broke Graves’ heart; he hadn’t thought the question alone would shatter their good mood so quickly. “At work, I mean. They’re really ganging up on you.”

Graves gritted his teeth and relayed, as briefly as possible, the interaction he’d had yesterday with Abernathy. Credence listened patiently, making absolutely no sudden moves even when Graves tentatively revealed what Abernathy had said about their relationship, and when Graves was done he said in a soft, unhappy voice that tore at Graves’ very soul, “Do you think Ilvermorny is going to throw me out, then?”

“What?” Graves sat up in shock. “Sweetheart, _no._ The worst that’ll happen is that Macusa won’t hire you when you graduate. You did nothing wrong, Credence. It was all me.”

Credence’s anxiety immediately shifted to anger. “What the hell do they think _you_ did wrong? He—he _hurt you,_ Percy! The only person whose fault this is, is currently rotting in a prison cell and—and I want to _talk_ to anyone who says otherwise,” he said fiercely.

Graves almost laughed. _I’ll talk to them._ How very Credence. “This is how the medical industry treats people who blow the whistle. I check all the imperfect victim boxes,” he explained, just as he’d told Chief Johnson. “He’s my ex, we’re both grown men, I’m not exactly physically weak…to an outsider, it looks like I was just…not happy with the way things ended.”

“But that’s not what happened!”

“But that’s what it looks like.” Graves sighed heavily. “God, this is exactly what I was afraid of. I’ve fucked up your life now, just by being with you.”

“Percy, _no.”_ Credence held him tightly, protectively, and something tense inside Graves began to relax. Credence still loved him, Credence didn’t blame him; that was all he needed to know. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it,” Credence said bracingly. “We’ll figure it out. If it’s bad enough that you need to leave, then you can leave…but where would you go?”

“There are plenty of places a nurse practitioner can work, love. There are private hospitals, places I’d get a lot more money than I do now…I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about _you._ I don’t want you to not get a job at your dream hospital because I couldn’t keep you safe.”

For a long moment the words hung in the air between them, and then Credence let out a soft _oh_ of understanding. Before Graves could properly apologize, however, Credence said, “I understand now. You think this was all your fault.”

“Well—it kind of was.” Graves sighed and pressed his face into Credence’s chest. “I couldn’t protect you, and I’m sorry. If I’d just told you—”

“Percy,” Credence interrupted, “if you had told me, I still wouldn’t have been able to avoid him. I didn’t want to go to see him that day, I was pressured into it. You were going to tell me when you were ready, and you _did_ try to warn me. If you think I blame you…”

He trailed off. Graves carefully raised his head to look into Credence’s face, and found nothing but compassion there. Compassion, and _love._ “I want,” he said, feeling his throat close up, “for us both to be all right again. I want…I want to forget.”

“I know.” Credence drew him back down and went back to stroking his hair. “I know. I want that too. But it’s like you said the night when we were in the hotel…it’s going to take time.” With a reassuring, just-tight-enough squeeze he added, “We’re doing the best we can. It’s okay. If you need to leave Macusa, if that’s what it’s going to take to put this behind us, then do it. You don’t need, like. My permission, or whatever? Just do what you need to do. I’ll deal with it.”

Graves relaxed into Credence’s gentle embrace, letting himself be lulled back into a sense of comfort and safety. “I love you so much,” he murmured into Credence’s warm skin. “You know, I really don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You were there when I needed you,” Credence said simply, as if it were the most obvious damn thing in the world. “And you needed me. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Graves let his eyes fall closed, let the sensation of Credence’s hand in his hair fill up every empty space inside him, fortifying him against whatever life might want to throw at him next. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s definitely enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape recovery TW spoilers: This chapter gets a lot deeper into the fallout of Grindelwald's assault on Credence, and the mental/emotional scars he has from that experience. In summary this chapter could basically be titled "Credence and Graves just want to move the eff on and are disappointed when reality ensues." At multiple points, both characters express frustration that the recovery process isn't happening faster ("I just want to be okay again," etc).
> 
> Sex TW spoilers: Credence and Graves have sex for the first time since Grindelwald attacked Credence. This scene is about as emotionally tense as one would expect, and there's a bit of trial and error while they try to work out a way to have sex where they're both comfortable with it and neither of them will be "triggered" by the other's actions. There's also a couple of mentions of body image here re: Credence's scars (Grindelwald almost stopped after feeling that he had those scars, reinforcing his fear that he's undesirable because of them, so one of the things Credence wants when they do have sex is for Graves to touch/look at his back to remind him that his scars don't make him ugly).
> 
> Victim-blaming TW spoilers: One of Graves' coworkers aggressively confronts him while he's out with Lilah about "getting Grindelwald fired" and makes it clear he doesn't believe that Grindelwald was actually guilty of his crimes. This section is full of rough language, with Credence and Graves both being referred to as "whores" and Abernathy all but telling Graves he and Credence should kill themselves. Naturally Graves is very shaken by this and needs a lot of TLC from Lilah after the fact; later he reluctantly tells Credence about the incident, and Credence very firmly reinforces that the whole situation is Grindelwald's fault, not theirs. There's also some discussion in this chapter about the culture of silence in the medical industry, with more blame being placed on Graves for "blowing the whistle" than the person who committed the crimes, and some concern that Macusa may refuse to hire Credence for his part in the whole mess.
> 
> Baby/pregnancy/gender reveal TW spoilers: Tina is about 5 months along in her pregnancy and about to have her baby shower. They find out the baby's sex in this chapter and Newt, who secretly hopes for a daughter, is extremely pedantic and insistent in the terminology (lots of "we're finding out the SEX CHROMOSOMES not the GENDER," etc.) and is reluctant to let Tina have a gender-reveal cake at her baby shower. They do find out the sex and it's allegedly a girl, in what Credence narratively refers to as a "sappy hallmark movie moment." (This is one of those "do I really NEED to TW this...?" moments, but I know pregnancy and the sex of the baby can be a sensitive topic for some, so. Just in case.)


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! ^_^ I had my pinning ceremony today! It's a super important part of nursing school graduation where a nurse who's already been in the field gives you your RN pin as a way of welcoming you into the fold. My mom (also a nurse) pinned me, so of course that was super special. I'm almost done! Just gotta register for the NCLEX and I'll be a real nurse! :)
> 
> And now back to our boys. ;)
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -Victim-blaming on an institutional level  
> -Unhealthy coping mechanisms  
> -Big, big, BIG fat one for alcohol  
> -Brief, very opaque allusions to sexual assault  
> See end notes for TW spoilers ^_^

Newt frowned as he held a paint chip up to the light. “It’s too…pink.”

Graves rolled his eyes. Tina, most likely out of a desire to get some time to herself than anything else, had given Newt the task of designing the baby’s nursery, and as with every other task he had ever been set Newt took it very seriously. So they had been loitering in the local Ace Hardware pretty much all morning, while Newt looked between the Pinterest app that Credence had very patiently installed on his phone for him and the wall of paint chips with the intensity of one deciding which wire to cut on a bomb.

Now he was looking over a purple swatch Graves had chosen with a critical eye. “I don’t think this one will work. It’s too feminine.”

Graves sighed. “Newt, the last one I gave you was _too gray,_ the one before that was _too regal._ You’re not trying to rewire the TARDIS. It’s _paint._ I have yet to met a baby who gives a shit about the color about their nursery.”

Newt gave him a side-eyed look. “You’ll be nervous when your little ones come along too, you’ll see. I’m doing my best here.”

“I know, but you need to stop or you’ll just tie yourself up in knots and get nothing done. Case in point: we left the house two hours ago and have yet to actually make it to Target to look at baby things.”

Newt pouted. “I just want to get it _right.”_

“I know you do,” Graves said patiently, “but you’re trying to accommodate the likes and dislikes of a person who, forget not knowing them, _they technically don’t exist in the human world yet._ Like, you do know that right now your baby doesn’t actually know what the color purple _is,_ right? She’s, what, the size of a bell pepper and has maybe three of her five senses?”

“She’s still a _person!”_

“Yeah, _a person who doesn’t know what colors are,_ who will, let’s face it, probably spend more time in yours or Tina’s lap than in her room anyway.”

There was a long pause as Newt considered the reality of what Graves was saying, and then with an air of finality grabbed the paint chip he’d been picking at for a good few minutes before Graves had offered up the “too pink” one. “This one,” he decided. “We’ll leave the trim white.”

Graves texted Credence a photo of the paint chip as they were in line. **_It took us almost two hours just to pick the paint color. Please tell me planning our wedding won’t be like this._** Credence responded by texting him a link to a Vegas chapel specializing in Elvis-officiated ceremonies, and Graves couldn’t help but let out an inelegant snort of laughter. **_Works for me,_** he texted back, **_but I’m not going to be the one to tell Queenie we’re eloping._**

“You look happy,” Newt observed as they headed out to the car. “Something I should know?”

“Not unless you want to hear about our secret plans to sneak off to Vegas the second Credence is done with school.”

“Oh, fantastic. Tina ought to be thrilled with that,” Newt chuckled as he heaved the paint into the trunk of the car.

“Queenie’s the one I’m thinking of. She’s already about to go full Emily Gilmore with this shower-engagement party thing she’s got going for next weekend. Imagine if we told her, _nope, call the the whole thing off, we’re gonna just elope._ She’d lose her shit.”

“Doesn’t matter if that’s what you wa—”

Before Newt could finish, his eyes went dark and he firmly shoved Graves around the side of Tina’s SUV. A split-second later something splattered against the back window of the van, right where Graves had just stood. “What the hell?”

 _“Fucking whore,”_ came a vaguely familiar voice from the other end of the parking lot, the end closer to the street. Two more eggs smacked the car, and then the car sped off, and Graves was left leaning against the door of the van, his heart racing as what had just happened sank in.

Newt came around the side, a hand held out in a careful offering of comfort. “What can I do?” he asked quietly.

Graves shook his head, not quite ready to put into words what he was thinking, feeling, what he now _knew._ It was petty high school bullshit—throwing an egg at someone, really?—but what chilled him to the bone was that Abernathy or whoever else it might’ve been had _followed him._

He didn’t use social media often, really just used it to occasionally share photos with Lilah or talk to acquaintances whom he didn’t know well enough to have their phone numbers. But an hour ago he had, just to make Credence laugh, posted a selfie of him and Newt in the paint aisle, Graves rolling his eyes in the foreground while Newt pored over the paint chips, and captioned it _can we go home yet?_ Naturally Queenie, Tina, and Credence had all found it hilarious.

Graves had a grand total of eight Instagram followers, but the app must have tagged his location in the photo automatically. Because whoever threw the egg had found him _somehow,_ and he would’ve noticed if a car had followed him all the way from his apartment to Newt’s house. Or maybe they did follow him and he hadn’t noticed. Either way, whoever had thrown the egg was stalking him, either online or in person.

 _I can’t do this anymore._

He knew what had to happen. And Credence was not going to like it one bit.

But for now, there was nothing he could do except keep moving forward. “Let’s go to Target,” he said quietly, and when Newt started to protest, “Newt, I don’t want to wallow in this right now, okay? I want to go get the car washed and go help you pick out your baby furniture. If you want to help, let me—”

He broke off, but Newt’s hand had come down on his shoulder and Graves knew he understood. “We’ll move on. For now,” he promised, and Graves heard what he wasn’t saying: _you need to tell Credence, you need to tell HR, you can’t ignore this forever, but if you need to pretend everything is normal right now, we can._

~

Fate had cruelly allowed Credence to be scheduled for both his mental health and critical care final exams on the same day. The week leading up to both he virtually lived either in the library or in his basement apartment, an arrangement that no one much cared for but least of all Credence himself. By the time he had finished his exams, he was so mentally worn out that he barely had the capacity to focus on driving home.

He found Percy waiting in his apartment when he got home and managed a tired smile. “Hey. Whatever plans you’ve got for me this evening I hope it includes a nap, I’m dead.”

Percy gave him a thin smile. “We need to talk.”

Credence tensed up a little, then very carefully went in, set down his backpack and sat down on the tiny loveseat next to Percy. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.” Percy sighed heavily. “A couple of days ago, when Newt and I were out shopping for baby stuff, some guys from the hospital found me, most likely through that picture I posted on Instagram, and threw eggs at us.”

Credence’s stomach turned to ice. _No. No, no, no._ Being snotty to Percy at the hospital was one thing, but following him, stalking him, _hurting him?_ “No,” he said out loud.

Percy winced. “Yeah. That’s…yeah. So. Um. I think we need to…” He looked sadly at Credence’s left hand. “Do you have clinicals at Macusa this summer?”

“Well, I’m doing my community health clinical through their urgent care. But I’m not _at the hospital,_ no. I’m doing maternity at the Catholic hospital over in Royal Oak, same place I had mental health, and I’m doing peds at the children’s hospital downtown.”

“Okay.” Percy exhaled and looked down. “Okay. That helps. But I—I’m so sorry—it’s—sweetheart, it’s not enough.” He looked back up to Credence’s face, his face twisted in an expression of such raw heartbreak that Credence very nearly burst into tears on the spot. “I don’t want to have to do this to you, but—”

He broke off. Credence, feeling as though the ice in his stomach had spread through his entire body, reached vaguely for his left hand and, with shaking fingers, pulled off the engagement ring and set it on Percy’s knee. “Okay,” he said faintly. “If that’s what you want…”

Percy’s eyes went wide with shock. “What are you doing?”

“Aren’t you breaking up with me?”

“No! Oh God, Credence, I’m so sorry, _no!”_ Percy nearly dropped the ring in his haste to snatch it up and get it back onto Credence’s finger. “No, no, _no._ God, no. Come here…” He pulled Credence into his arms and buried his face in his hair. “Oh, sweetheart. No. It’s not like that, I just…” He sighed heavily and pulled back. “I would never break up with you over this, love. But we _are_ going to have to…well, we’re going to have to hide that we’re together. For our safety.”

“Oh, okay.” Credence let out a trembling sigh of relief. “That’s not so bad. We’ll just stay away from each other at work, and—”

But he stopped when he saw Percy was shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid that won’t be enough.” He took a deep breath. “Sweet boy, I’m so sorry to ask this of you, but…we’ll need to, for all intents and purposes, essentially pretend that we _have_ broken up. Our families can know, but no one else. And until I figure out what’s going on…well, we’re going to have to take some precautions that I know you aren’t going to like.”

The momentary relief that Credence felt when Percy said they weren’t break up, instantly dried up as Percy outlined the rules for the foreseeable future: take down any photos Credence had of them together on social media, take down his “engaged” status from Facebook, tell everyone except the Goldsteins, Newt, Jacob, and Percy’s immediate family that they had ended their engagement, of course Credence had to stop wearing his ring in public, and—worst of all—no more dates. No seeing each other, period.

“So I’m sorry,” Credence cut him off, “you’re saying we can’t—I understand not in public, but you can’t sneak over here once in a while?”

Percy looked desperately unhappy. “If some dickhead like Abernathy follows me home and sees me leaving, if they follow me here…no. I can’t have them knowing where you live.” He saw the stricken look Credence must have been wearing because he quickly added, “Sweetheart, this is just temporary, I swear.”

“How long?”

“As soon as I get another job and we can confirm no one’s following me around.” He sighed and stood up. “And on that note…”

“No,” Credence pleaded, reaching out and clinging to Percy’s sleeve before he could walk away. “This is the last time I’m going to see you for I don’t know how long. You can’t leave me like this. I—” He could feel his throat closing up as the reality sank in: no more yoga classes, no more hour-long snuggle sessions, no more post-clinical frozen yogurt or coffee dates. No more Percy to cuddle him back to sleep after a bad dream. “I can’t,” he barely managed to get out. “Please don’t do this to me.”

Percy looked crushed. “Oh, Credence…love, I’m not doing this to hurt you, I’m doing this to protect us both.” He sat back down and gently pulled Credence into his arms. “I promise,” he murmured tenderly, “when this is over, when I have a new job and it’s _safe,_ I’ll come back and hold you for hours. I _promise,_ baby. But right now you have to let me go. I know it hurts. But it has to happen, I…” It was his turn to be on the verge of tears, from the sounds of it. “I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“If it’s a couple of morons with eggs, I think I can take them, Percy,” Credence pointed out, and Percy laughed. “I mean it! I’m not afraid of them—”

“But I am.” Percy drew back and cupped Credence’s face in his hands. “I—I am scared shitless, all right? I’ll admit it, I’m not as brave as you, I can’t just live with the idea that someone could hurt you just to get back at me.”

For a moment Credence reeled. _I’m not as brave as you._ “Percy, don’t say that about yourself, I’m…you’re…”

“Let’s be real, sweetheart, you’re the strong one,” Percy said with a humorless laugh. He let go of Credence’s face and held his hands instead. “But I need you to let me protect you the only way I can right now. I promise I will call you, I will not leave you, this is temporary I _swear,_ but it has to happen. I need to go, and you need to let me. Please, Credence, if you love me, if you trust me, let me go, and I swear everything will be okay.”

And so—even though his heart was breaking—even though it took every bit of strength he possessed—even though every instinct inside him screamed _no, no, this is wrong, don’t let him do it_ —Credence kissed the man he loved good-bye and let him go, with not a single clue of when they would see each other again.

It should have been a night to celebrate. Credence had passed both finals with flying colors, and he would have a full week to recover before he began summer classes. He should have been on the couch in Percy’s arms, watching a terrible movie and laughing at it, eating Queenie’s delicious cooking and Jacob’s even more delicious desserts. He should have been tucked away in his curtained bed with Percy, doing all of the delightful R-rated activities they had so recently rediscovered.

Instead, he lay curled up on the loveseat in tears, clutching the cushion that Percy had leaned on to his chest so he could smell Percy’s scent, his heart in pieces and his mind going five thousand miles an hour.

He knew, logically, that what Percy wanted made some degree of sense. If the angry Grindelwald supporters at Macusa had escalated to following Percy and throwing things at him, well, who could say they wouldn’t do worse? And of course he knew going to the police would do no good; what were they going to do, arrest and question every employee on suspicion of egg-throwing?

But…but still…not knowing if or when he would see Percy, _hold_ Percy, again…not being allowed to talk about him…pretending he was single…not being allowed to wear his engagement ring. Oh, that cut _deep._ That ring wasn’t just a piece of jewelry to Credence. It was a little piece of Percy that he could have with him. It was everything. He couldn’t leave it at home, he just couldn’t!

Credence lay on the couch and cried like a child, screamed into the pillow, mourned as if he’d just been given a week to live. It didn’t matter how much sense it made logistically. He wouldn’t feel whole again, he knew, until he and Percy could properly be together again.

~

Graves had thought he knew what it was like to be alone. Five years of hiding himself away and refusing to be touched or loved by anyone outside his family, well. That had taught him a thing or two about being alone, yes.

But in the weeks following his mandate that he and Credence not see each other, he got a taste of what it was like to be _lonely._ And it was hell.

For the first two weeks or so it wasn’t that terrible. He gamely sent out resumes, ignored the whispers and petty childish pranks at work, lived for the hours in the evening when he could call his fiance on the phone and bathe in the sound of his voice. The idea of absence making the heart grow fonder was apparently a very accurate one, because even in the early days of their courtship he hadn’t _ached_ for Credence like this.

That was the problem, Graves reflected as he lay awake one night, restless and fighting the urge to get in his car and drive straight to Credence’s apartment, with having your heart’s desire. Once you had it and got used to it, having to live without it was like going through drug withdrawals.

He had a hard time sleeping alone, and _knowing_ he was going to be sleeping alone _every night._ On the rare occasions that he got to see Credence from afar, usually when he passed the pharmacy, it burned him like nothing else to know he couldn’t go up to him—and to know that he wasn’t wearing his ring. To know that anyone could walk up to Credence and flirt, thinking he was _available._ He was tired all the time from not sleeping and irritable from being tired, mentally and emotionally exhausted from the effort of keeping himself together every day.

But it was right to do what they’d done. Within a few days, Macusa rumors being what they were, Abernathy had come up to him snotting about how he’d “lost his arm candy,” and unless Credence was lying to him (which he’d never known Credence to do) Abernathy and his friends had left him alone. And that was worth it. Because Graves knew that even as he himself continued to get nasty letters shoved in his locker at work, and his car was egged multiple times, and the other DNPs and MSNs refused to have anything to do with him…Credence was safe. And as long as Credence was safe, Graves was sure he could endure.

By the third week, depression set in. Graves had given up everything Dr. Firenze encouraged him to do (the mere thought of going to yoga class without Credence made him sick to his stomach, and when he tried to journal he ended up throwing the damn notebook in the trash). It wasn’t helping anyway. Two, three, then four glasses of Jameson a night; who was counting? It didn’t matter; Credence wasn’t around to be made uncomfortable by his drunken weeping.

(Because of course, apologies to his rowdy Celtic ancestors, Graves was indeed a weepy drunk. Just his luck, right?)

And then came the night that he did his worst.

Four glasses in and Graves drunk-dialled Credence, who immediately picked up that something was wrong. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Graves all but whimpered into the phone. “I know you hate this, I hate it too, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want us to be apart like this, I need you so bad and I just—”

“Okay,” Credence cut him off after about ten solid minutes of weepy drunken rambling. He sounded as raw and desperate as Graves felt, and it tore at his heart to know that Credence was suffering too. “Okay, I’m coming over there. I don’t care who sees, you need me and this is—”

 _“No!”_ he shouted, and he could almost picture Credence recoiling in shock on the other end of the phone; Graves never shouted at him, _never._ “If they hurt you I’ll die,” he choked out. “Please, _please_ Credence, stay there. I need you to not get hurt. Please.”

He heard Credence’s muffled sobs on the other end, then an angry, “I already _am_ hurt,” and then the call ended.

The next morning came too quickly, and brought with it a terrible headache and an even more terrible sense of shame. _You fucking loser. You promised you’d never do this to him, you know how he feels about alcohol, you promised he’d never see you drunk and what do you do, you fucking drunk dial him. You don’t deserve him. If he mails you back that ring and says he never wants to see you again, you’d better accept it._

Graves knew he needed to call Credence and apologize, but he couldn’t. **_I’m so sorry, sweetheart,_** he said in a text, **_I swear I will never do that to you again._**

It was probably, _definitely,_ a bad sign that it took Credence all day to reply. By then Graves had panicked and sent him flowers and a huge bouquet of iced nurse-themed cookies…neither of which, he knew, would make up for the damage he’d done. He called Tina and told her what had happened and gladly took the much-deserved tongue-lashing, before she promised she’d try to smooth things over as much as she could.

 **You’ve really done it this time,** she warned him that night. **I’d give him a few days to cool off before you try and talk to him again.**

 **_He’s going to leave me, isn’t he,_ ** Graves replied, hands shaking so badly he could barely type out the words.

**I asked him if he wanted to end the engagement and he looked at me like I had six heads, so no, I don’t think so. But he’s upset. Let him breathe for a while and then try calling again.**

A few days turned into a week, then two. The texting resumed, cautious and stiff and formal, and the wedge between them turned into what felt like a solid marble wall. Talking to Credence wasn’t the same. Gone was the sweet boy who confided in him, who fell asleep with the phone clutched to his ear so that Graves had to end the call, who texted him little sweet nothings during the day to give him a boost at work.

Graves knew it couldn’t go on like this. He neglected everything else in his frantic efforts to find a job, knowing it would take more than a week to get hired in another hospital but desperate to get out. He called Tina’s old boss and begged her to help find out if he was being followed (so far: no, but one couldn’t be too careful…) and deleted every social media app on his phone.

 **_I love you,_ ** he texted Credence every night. **_I love you so much. Please, just a little longer. I’m doing the best I can._ **

And he wasn’t sure what hurt worse: that over time the replies went from comforting variations of _I’m right here with you, I love you too, we’ll make this work,_ to a cold, impersonal _I know…_ or that over time he stopped weeping into a glass of whiskey and accepted, with a dull, almost neuropathic tingling in his heart, that of course it would come to this.

~

It was kind of like exercising, really. At first you can’t even run a mile, or do more than a few pushups, or lift more than ten pounds. And then little by little you get stronger, run farther and faster, can make your body do things you never thought you could.

That’s what it was like, Credence reflected as he dressed for his maternity clinical one morning. Both nursing school, _and_ living without Percy.

The first few days had been the worst. He’d cried himself to sleep, not that he would admit it. He’d wanted nothing more than to have Percy with him again, to hold and be held, and it burned him to not know when they could see each other. He’d fallen asleep clutching his phone to his ear, listening to Percy’s soothing voice and the gentle sound of his breathing on the other end. He’d worn the t-shirt Percy had left behind to bed every night, and in a moment of total insanity sent one of his own shirts to Percy just in case he might want something of Credence’s to hold while he slept.

He’d spend the rare time he didn’t have to study curled up around that unicorn, dreaming of the moment this was all over and he could have Percy back…and then. And then it happened: _that call._

_That call_ changed everything. Tina had tried to comfort him as best as she could, but Credence was inconsolable. He wanted to send Newt to check on Percy, make sure he wasn’t doing anything worse than just drinking a little too much. Instead, Tina sat with him all night, letting him vent, and the next day when he told her “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she thankfully listened.

It hurt like nothing else to see Percy drifting away and knowing Credence couldn’t do anything about it without completely violating the boundaries Percy had set for them. And if he sat around pining, Credence knew he’d go crazy. So at the combined advice of Tina, Ms. Trelawney, Nagini, and Queenie, Credence stopped trying to pretend that everything was okay, that this separation was only going to be a few weeks and then everything would go back to normal. There was no normal, not after this. 

So he threw himself into school with everything he had, and made a fierce effort to act like he was fine. As the weather warmed, he and Nagini spent a lot of time in the courtyards at Ilvermorny, sprawled out on a blanket in the grass with their books or sitting at a picnic table with their laptops, doing their homework in the sunshine. They were in different clinical groups this time, but they could still work on their assignments together, and they did. 

And then, as May faded into June, the local pool opened, the carnivals began to come to town, summer movies started coming out, and Queenie, Jacob, and Nagini seemed to all combine forces to give Credence no time to mourn what he missed so badly. And little by little, one day at a time, Credence realized that he wasn’t just pretending to be okay. He actually _did_ feel okay, most of the time.

But. Of course. There were still moments. And he still felt that Percy had made the wrong decision by forcing them to separate. “I just want to see him,” he complained to Newt one night as he helped clean the kitchen after a family dinner. “I really, truly don’t understand why he couldn’t…God, I don’t know, tell people he’s coming over here to see you, or something. I seriously doubt the upper brass of Macusa knows or cares where I live.”

It had been a long day. He’d had a tough test in his maternity nursing class, it had been too hot and damp to study outside so he and Nagini had unfortunately had to go their separate ways after class, he’d found out that he hadn’t gotten as much financial aid as he’d wanted for the fall semester, and topping it all off, he was on day four with no texts from Percy. It had been threatening to rain all day without the relief of actual rain, Credence had a monster headache, and though he’d mostly managed to keep venting sessions limited to therapy, he was in the mood to talk and, well, Newt was right there.

“Unfortunately, since you were a student, they do have your information on file, but with that being said…” Newt sighed heavily. “Goodness, I don’t even know how much to tell you…do you two even still talk? He won’t even let me come over anymore, did I tell you that?”

Credence shook his head. “It honestly doesn’t surprise me, though. He doesn’t call anymore. Just texts. I think he thinks I don’t want anything to do with him after he drunk-dialled me. But I just want him to be okay…and I want to see him again.” His lip trembled and he couldn’t stop his voice from breaking as he added, “He said we weren’t breaking up, but God, Newt, that’s exactly how it feels…like we broke up when he called me that night…you know, I forgave him for that a long time ago, because I _get it,_ like—does he think this isn’t killing me, or—does he think I wouldn’t give _anything_ to be with him again?”

Newt sighed again. “Oh, I think he does know. I think he—you know, Graves is that kid from school who would just avoid the teacher if he hadn’t done his homework, d’you know what I mean? He thinks if he just doesn’t talk to you until he’s left Macusa, he’ll be able to make up for lost time.” Newt paused and then added, “You know—everything that happened, with—with _him,_ you know—Graves wasn’t always like this, is my point.”

Credence understood, of course, what Newt was getting at. But that didn’t make it any easier. “I know, but…God, it’s not _fair,”_ he said bitterly, staring down at the dishes in the sink like they were personally responsible. “We were both getting better, you know? We were going to that yoga class together, we were talking about stuff, we were both…we were both _really_ starting to heal, and now it’s like…like I’m still moving forward and he’s stuck—”

He broke off, but Newt understood. “You think you’re going to leave him behind.” When Credence just gave him a sad look, Newt reached over and turned off the water, handed Credence a hand towel, and led him over to the kitchen table. They sat down together and he made Credence look at him. “You’ve seen us together, Graves and I, haven’t you. You’ve seen that we’re very…touchy, shall we say.”

Credence giggled, thinking of an old photo Tina had slipped him where Percy was curled up, asleep, halfway on Newt’s lap. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

Newt nodded, smiling, and then suddenly the smile dropped. “When he had that experience with Grindelwald…there’s no way to say it but to say it. He couldn’t bear to be touched. If you came within arm’s length of him he’d bolt. I’ll let you imagine how much it hurt to see that my best friend couldn’t have a hug, couldn’t even be within three feet of me without having a panic attack. Thing is, and I didn’t understand at the time—of course I didn’t; you know what they say about hindsight—healing at different rates, in different ways, doesn’t mean that you’re leaving each other behind. He needed time to process before he could accept physical comfort again, that was all. He wasn't rejecting me, or anyone else who wanted to be there for him, as much as it may have felt like it at the time.”

That was not, unfortunately, what Credence needed to hear. “I don’t know if”—and this was the thing that hurt, that still kept him up at night—“if he still loves me, if he even still _wants_ me—” Thunder began to rumble in the distance. Credence’s lip trembled again, and he had to fight hard to keep himself from falling apart. He hated it—he’d thought he was _okay,_ that he could talk about this calmly (and he _had,_ just two days ago in therapy!) but apparently not.

“Oh, Credence…” Newt reached out and gripped both of his shoulders. “Look at me. _He loves you,”_ he said firmly. “He is, believe it or not, doing this for you, to protect you. It’s killing him too. I think that’s why he can’t stand to talk to you as much. He thinks you’re pulling away.”

“I am,” Credence admitted. “Because I don’t want to think about how much I’m missing, by not being able to be with him.”

“But you’re doing okay. And I think if he understood that, and if he understood that he doesn’t need to protect you the way he thinks he does, things would improve.” Newt squeezed his shoulders one more time and stood up. “Listen. I’ll try and talk some sense into him, again. In the meantime…I promise, you two can survive this. You wouldn’t believe some of the things Tina and I have had to weather. We made it, and so will you.”

Almost right on cue, Tina came staggering into the kitchen. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said through gritted teeth as she leaned on the doorframe for support, “but Newt? My water just broke.”

There was a moment of dead silence, during which time Newt looked about how Credence felt: like he’d been smacked over the head with a 2x4. And then the lights flickered and went out, just as the sky opened up and began to pour out the fattest, angriest raindrops Credence had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victim-blaming TW spoilers: Graves' coworkers are still very unhappy about his decision to come forward about the crimes of Grindelwald. (Sorry, I couldn't resist lol.) They escalate to such petty bullshit as egging his car, stalking him on social media, and harassing him at work, to the point where he's actively searching for another job to get out of the situation.
> 
> Unhealthy coping mechanisms spoilers: As a direct result of the harassment, Graves cuts off Credence and insists they pretend to have broken up to minimize Credence's exposure to that nastiness, which has a very negative impact on his mental health. Credence is very upset by it too, but he's able to cope with it a little better than Graves, who progressively shuts Credence out more and more and begins to cut off his other friends as well. He stops following advice from his therapist and becomes more depressed as time goes on.
> 
> Alcohol TW spoilers: Graves begins to drink more heavily after the enforced separation from Credence. At one point he drunk-dials Credence, thus breaking his promise to not drink around Credence or let Credence see him drunk. This severely negatively impacts their relationship--mainly, however, because Credence wants to come over when he sees how upset Graves is, and Graves won't let him.
> 
> Sexual assault TW spoilers: It's vaguely alluded to a few times, but the reason Graves' coworkers are harassing him is because he turned in a company favorite who raped him. Newt also refers to Graves' aversion to touch immediately following the assault while discussing the fallout with Credence.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaalllll righty peeps this one is basically Medical Junk: The Chapter. Fair warning. :P
> 
> And yes, Graves' patient is literally just Ezra Miller bc I couldn't bring myself to invent another OC or dig through the Harry Potter catalogue to find a minor character. (Also bc let's face it...letting his "heart attack" patient look like Credence = all the feels for Graves. Why not.) ;)
> 
> Chapter TWs:  
> -MEDICAL STUFF. Seriously this is the biggest one. It's not super graphic, but in this chapter we see: surgery, possible heart attack, blood clot, medical tests, childbirth, and a broken bone.  
> -Car accident - very brief, again not graphic, no death or severe injury  
> -Childbirth. Again nowhere near as graphic as the birth scene in Twilight, but it's not glossed over and includes: vomiting/nausea, intense pain, psychological blocks, mentions of blood, and mentions of possible complications.  
> -Some brief references to victim-blaming/victim-targeting/workplace bullying  
> See end notes for TW spoilers ^_^
> 
> And the very loooong medical junk lightning round:  
> -Thromboembolism: fancy ass word for blood clot  
> -Troponins: lab test done to determine if a patient is having a heart attack  
> -Nitro/nitroglycerin: drug used to open up blood vessels if a patient is having chest pain  
> -Angina: non-heart attack chest pain  
> -Idiopathic: no one knows what's causing it  
> -Lithium: drug used to treat bipolar disorder. The amount of drug in your system should be between 0.8 and 1.2, and if the levels are well over that you may get heart problems.  
> -Morphine: opioid painkiller that is given to patients having heart attacks to ease pain and help them relax  
> -Apical pulse: pulse taken on the left side of the chest, considered to be the most "accurate" site to take a pulse  
> -CHF: congestive heart failure  
> -Myocardial infarction/MI: fancy ass word for heart attack  
> -ST segment/P-to-P interval: Variations on an EKG/heart monitor. Basically if the ST segment is elevated it's a sign of a heart attack, if the P-to-P interval is uneven, the patient's heartbeat is irregular.  
> -ETT: Test done to see if there is a clot in someone's heart, a camera is put down their esophagus to see their heart from inside their chest  
> -TAVR: putting a new valve in a person's heart to replace a valve that isn't working  
> -Thrombectomy: surgery to take out a blood clot, can be done via laparascopy these days (aka without actually doing open-heart surgery)  
> -Primigravida = first time being pregnant, primipara = first time giving birth  
> -TENS unit: electrode unit used to help ease pain
> 
> WHEW I think that's all lol XD Enjoy the Medical Junk chapter, next time we'll be back with our regularly scheduled dose of Gradence Feels ^_^

There weren’t too many safe places in Macusa for Graves anymore. The “baby nurses,” or new RNs, were warned to keep away from him—“he’s poison,” they were told, “if you make one wrong move he’ll accuse you of something terrible and get you fired”—and the RNs all looked at him like he’d shot someone. The doctors mostly ignored him, which was quite frankly a relief.

But he wasn’t entirely without allies. Every lunchtime he ate with Albus, who gladly kept Graves sequestered in his office. He missed his lunches in the courtyard with Lilah, but the assholes like Abernathy were not at all above pouring Coke in his food or tripping him on the way to his seat. It was all so goddamn high school, really, it would have made Graves laugh if the big picture weren’t so serious.

“They can’t mess with you if I’m around,” Albus had pointed out the first time they ate lunch together. “I’m the top of the food chain on the floor. No one will dare cross a doctor, not even Abernathy would be dumb enough to do that.”

He felt responsible for what his husband had done and Graves knew it. And he also knew that in his pain, he had been horribly,  _ horribly _ unfair to the poor man, who had lost just as much as he had if not more…Graves couldn’t imagine how broken he would feel if he knew Credence had done to someone else what Grindelwald had done to him. So he holed up in Albus’ office and ate there every day, and tried not to feel guilty for…literally everything.

So now Graves was sitting in Albus’ office, eating the unheated Spaghetti-O’s (the very last thing in his pantry; he hadn’t felt like shopping in weeks) he’d brought for lunch. He would have absolutely died for a lamplighter sandwich from Reuben’s diner, but that would have meant actually going and seeing Reuben and…well. Reuben had thought he looked “dead” when he finished school; if he saw Graves now he may well check him into the nearest clinic.

When Graves looked in the mirror these days, he barely recognized himself. His hair was overly long and streaked liberally with gray; he hadn’t been keeping up with the dye or the cuts. The electric razor wasn’t really dong the job and he had the solid beginnings of an actual beard and mustache. Credence would have loved that, he thought with a bitter laugh. But the facial hair wasn’t enough to distract from the dark circles under his glazed eyes, the hollow sharpness of his face, the dreadful pallor of his skin.

Albus was kind enough not to mention Graves’ looks or his food. All he said was, “Have you found another hospital you’d like to work for yet?”

Graves shook his head. “I’ve interviewed at a couple of places. I’m…” He looked shame-facedly down into his food. “I think…I’m afraid they…know what happened here. No one asks about it, of course, but the interview will go really well and then…nothing.”

Albus hesitated a moment and then offered, very carefully, “If you still think you might like to be involved in palliative care, there is an old friend of mine from school who runs a nursing home. She’s not a doctor, and she’s always looking for providers who know how to do end of life care…I could ask if she needs a DNP on staff. It’s not charity and it’s not guilt,” he added before Graves could demur. “I’d do this for any colleague of mine in a tight spot.”

“But—”

“Graves. Look at me,” Albus commanded sternly. “You’re a good practitioner, I’ve said it all along. You’re good with patients, you can think on the fly—”

“And I’m responsible for three back-to-back anterior wall MIs that I mistook for angina,” Graves reminded him bitterly.

Albus gave him a long, hard look. “Considering the stress you were under at the time,” he said quietly, “I think I can overlook that when I tell Minnie about you.”

Graves didn’t say anything. But he knew they were both thinking about  _ it. _ He sighed and leaned back in his seat a little. The wind picked up outside, a tree branch mournfully tapping the window. Graves closed up his bowl of cold pasta. He wasn’t hungry. But he knew full well that Albus had won. He managed to raise his eyes to the doctor’s and said quietly, “Thank you. I don’t deserve it, but…thank you.”

“And I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Albus calmly replied without missing a beat, “and yet here we are.”

Before Graves could reply to that, his hospital phone went off and he hastily unhooked it from his belt to answer. “What’s up?”

“It’s Miller in 8206-2,” Ginny informed him, and he internally groaned. That kid was the definition of  _ idiopathic, _ with absolutely no known cause for his symptoms. Of course something was wrong again,  _ of course. _ “He’s having chest pains again.”

This was, of course, not good news. “All right, I’m on the way.”

The patient in 8206-2 was a young man with a history of drug use and bipolar disorder…and absolutely zero cardiac issues up to this point. He’d come to the ED the previous night complaining of chest pains and, hand to God,  _ no one _ in the hospital could figure out what the hell was wrong with him. The EKGs had come back normal, troponins were fine, no symptoms of congestive heart failure. Just sudden, agonizing chest pain with no visible cause. It wasn’t unheard-of for younger men to develop angina, but a man who hadn’t yet hit 30, with no family history of heart disease and no comorbidities?  _ That _ was unusual.

Graves went into the room expecting another episode of moderate pain that was quickly eased with nitro tablets and a change of position…and immediately knew something was wrong. The patient was flat on his back, his breath coming in wheezing gasps, his hand clutching his heart. Even from the doorway Graves saw the young man’s hair was slick with sweat, plastered to his ghost-white forehead. Meanwhile the heart monitor was going  _ crazy. _

As Graves lunged for the bed he heard Albus say, “Report?” to Ginny, who immediately launched into,  _ Ezra, 28-year-old white male, admitted to ED for idiopathic chest pain, medication history includes lithium, levels were 0.8, blood pressure before the incident was 124/79, is now 138/90… _

Graves ignored it all and focused on his patient. “Hey.  _ Hey. _ Look at me. There we go…” He raised the head of the bed, knowing it would make it easier to breathe. His own breath caught at the sight of the young man’s face—he looked so much like Credence—but no. Doppelganger of his possibly-ex fiance or not, this was Graves’ patient and he needed to focus. “I know it hurts,” he said as calmly as he could manage, “but we’re going to help. On a scale of one to ten with ten being the worst, how much does it hurt?”

“N-Nine,” the young man told him shakily. He described the pain, when asked. Radiating, sudden onset, felt like his chest was being crushed.

“Ginny, we need morphine,” Graves told her brusquely. “Nitro, morphine, and where’s—ah, thanks.” Albus had crossed the room and silently handed him the nasal cannula attached to the wall. He turned on the oxygen while Graves helped the patient slip the tube into his nose. “This will help you breathe. Try to relax, stress will only make it worse.”

Albus had flung back the blankets and was feeling for an apical pulse. “Can’t get a rhythm,” he reported.

Graves stole a quick look at the telemetry monitor. “Heart rate is up,” he told Albus. Ginny chose that moment to come back with the meds. Without bothering to scan the nitro (they’d worry about that when their patient wasn’t in crisis) Graves ripped the packet open and put the tablet under his tongue.

Ginny, meanwhile, looked to Albus. “What’s the dosage?” she asked, and he told her 4 mg. She nodded, drew up the medication, and while Albus listened to the heart sounds she carefully pushed the drug into the patient’s IV. “This should help the pain, and help you relax and breathe a little easier,” she told him.

Graves, meanwhile, had an eye on the telemetry monitor. Something was wrong. That heartbeat was fast, as could be expected, but… “No history of cardiac disease,” he recounted under his breath. “No history of hypertension, no CHF symptoms…sudden onset…” He looked closely at the heartbeat pattern traced across the screen. “Albus, something isn’t right.”

“Well, yes, that’s why we’re—”

“No, I mean something  _ isn’t right _ here. Look at this.” He pointed to the heart monitor. “Does that look like a myocardial infarction to you?”

Ginny had stayed mostly quiet and waiting for orders, but now she let out a sharp little gasp and both Albus and Graves whirled to face her. “It’s not—the rhythm, it’s not regular,” she said.

And it wasn’t. It was fast, so it was harder to tell—but the ST segment wasn’t elevated, and if you looked closely enough you could tell the P-to-P interval wasn’t equal. Not to mention that the pulse was changing rate—110 one minute, 115 the next. “That’s why you couldn’t find a steady pulse,” Graves realized, and turned back to the patient in the bed. “Show me where it hurts, exactly.”

“Everywhere,” was the answer squeezed out through gritted teeth, but when coaxed into it the man finally managed to narrow the worst of the pain to the left side of his chest, radiating through to his back. It wasn’t substernal, it wasn’t radiating down his arm…

“It’s not an MI,” Albus said, eyes still on the cardiac monitor.

At the exact same time, Ginny said “He’s got a blood clot,” while Graves sighed, “Fuck, it’s a thromboembolism.”

“We need to get him to the OR, right now,” Albus decided. “Get a visual on that clot. I’ll go ahead, let the team know what’s going on.”

“We’ll get him prepped for ETT and possible surgery,” Ginny replied and immediately went to turn off the IV pump.

The poor kid looked like he was about to pass out. “Should I call my parents?” he rasped. “Do I need—is this emergency surgery, am I—” A sharp, frightened wheeze burst from his chest before he managed to finish, “Am I going to be awake the whole time?”

He looked so terrified Graves’ heart broke for him, and right away he reached out and took the shaking hands in his. “All right. Listen, Ezra…I know this is scary, but trust me, we’re in much,  _ much _ better shape now that we know what it is,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could manage. “I know you’re in a lot of pain. And I know it’s very upsetting to not know what’s going to happen. And I wish I could tell you without a single doubt that everything is going to be fine, but what I  _ can _ promise you is that we will do absolutely everything in our power to get you through it.”

Tears welled up and spilled over the boy’s dark eyes, and Graves wanted to cry himself, he looked  _ so fucking much _ like Credence. “I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

Ginny finished unhooking the IV, snapped on the saline lock, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in the best possible hands you could be,” she promised him. “Dr. Dumbledore knows his shit, trust me. And Dr. Graves will absolutely  _ hunt down and kill _ anyone who threatens to make the tiniest mistake with your care, and I am only slightly exaggerating.”

Normally Graves would have bristled at that, but it seemed to help calm down his patient, so he leaned into it. “She’s right. Dr. House looks like a teddy bear next to me when I’m pissed off,” he said, and felt a spark of relief when Ezra managed a tiny smile. “I’ll be with you the whole time, and so will Dr. Dumbledore. We’ll take good care of you, don’t you worry. Now let’s get down to the OR, we need to see where that clot is and talk about getting it out.”

They got him to the cardiac theatre quickly. A quick dose of anesthetic, a throat-numbing spray, the slide of the camera down the young man’s throat to see where the clot was in his heart…and there it was, not the biggest clot Graves had ever seen but it was  _ there _ and it was most certainly the cause of his symptoms.

“Surgery,” he heard Albus murmur as the scope was withdrawn. “We’re going to need…oh goodness…” Graves turned around just in time to see the stricken look on the doctor’s face. “We’re going to need a minimum of five hours for the aspirin levels to—”

“He didn’t have aspirin,” Graves interrupted, “because we weren’t sure what was wrong, so we weren’t trying to break up a clot we didn’t know was there. We gave him morphine and nitroglycerin because I, like any other person seeing his symptoms would assume, thought he was having early-onset attacks of angina.”

Albus frowned. “I would have put it on the orders.”

“You did. I chose to withhold it.” And he’d had no small amount of angst about it, too. Ginny had asked  _ are you sure, Dr. Graves? _ about seven times that morning when he’d told her to withhold the aspirin from Ezra’s morning med pass. But something had just…not felt right about giving a young, healthy man with no history of cardiac trouble an antiplatelet drug. And now Graves was immensely thankful to his past self for making that choice.

Emergency surgeries were delicate operations to begin with, with the risks of complications sky-high, but if a patient were taking a medication that prevented blood from clotting, such as aspirin or warfarin, well. That was a recipe for disaster. In this case, not having had any aspirin meant that the preparations for surgery could begin immediately, which could save them precious time.

In short, the sooner they got this kid into the OR and got this clot out of him, the better. And Graves’ choices had just made that possible.

Albus stared hard at him for a moment, then nodded briskly and said, “Well then. That was excellent thinking on your part, Dr. Graves. Let’s get the surgery team, make sure we prepare for a potential rapid response. We’ll need to get him ready quickly, I don’t like the look of that clot…”

Graves had witnessed heart surgeries before, but they had all been TAVRs and bypasses. He’d never participated in a surgical thrombectomy before. It was a fascinating procedure, with a tiny balloon tube that was essentially used to “vacuum” the clot out of the heart inserted through the blood vessels in the patient’s neck. It was safer than doing open-heart surgery to remove the clot the “old-fashioned way.”

It was…atypical, to say the least, for a DNP  _ and _ an MD to be in the room with the cardiac surgeon. But Graves had made a promise to his patient and he was going to keep it.  _ I’ll be with you the whole time. _ He was not going to leave. Not even if the young man was asleep and wouldn’t know he was there.

Credence would know, he found himself thinking. If Credence were in surgery and his nurse had promised to be there, Graves would want the nurse to keep that promise. His participation was mostly limited to holding the kid’s hand as anesthesia took effect and occasionally fetching a needed tool from a nearby tray. It didn’t matter. He stayed.

Towards the end of the surgery he happened to look up, just in time to see a group of students hanging around the glass wall of the operating theatre. Graves couldn’t help but think, again, of Credence. He would have eaten this up with a spoon. Would have been so thrilled to see this procedure happen right in front of him.  _ Where does the balloon go, Percy? Is that really his heart? Wait, I thought the clot was near the right ventricle, why go in from the left side of his neck? _

“Done,” he heard the surgeon say, and a rush of relief hit him like a drug. “We’re going to move him into recovery.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Graves said immediately, in a tone that left no room for argument.

In the recovery room, the young man in the bed looked…small. Small and very still, and with an oxygen mask covering up half his face and his eyes closed he reminded Graves more of Credence than ever. He sank into a chair, hands over his face, while a PACU nurse took Ezra’s vitals, which came up normal for post-surgery. He would be all right. Graves bit his tongue and tried not to cry.

A gentle hand came down on his back and he looked up, startled, a reprimand to not touch him on his lips before he realized it was not Albus, but Seraphina. He didn’t say a word. Just stood and leaned into the embrace she offered. A tear slipped down his cheek, just one, as he realized this was the first hug he’d had since he’d left Credence’s apartment the day they pretended to break up.

“You saved his life,” he heard Seraphina saying quietly as she rubbed his back. “This kid would be dead if you hadn’t noticed the heartbeat. Dr. Dumbledore told me everything…you even had the foresight to hold his aspirin this morning.” She withdrew and held him at arm’s length. He could see both pride and concern in her eyes, more so when she reached up and gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. “You look awful. What’s wrong? You did the right thing, Perce. This guy’s going to live because of you.”

No one had ever said that to Graves before, he realized with an almost distant sense of…not pride, exactly, but vindication. He’d done the  _ nurse work _ for years. No glory, no thanks, mostly just people glaring at you and asking why you  _ cared _ if they used an 18-gauge needle instead of a 20 for an IV. But this…this was the first time someone had lived directly by his hand. The first time that it was truly, unmistakably  _ his doing _ that a patient had lived instead of taking a turn for the worse.

And it broke his heart, because he realized with aching clarity in that moment that all he wanted was for Credence to know about this, to know that this feeling was real, that it was  _ possible. _ He wanted, Graves realized as a tiny sob broke free, for Credence to have this experience even more than he wanted it for himself.

Maybe he’d saved his patient, and that in itself was no small thing. But he could very well be on the verge of losing everything else. “Everything is a mess,” he told Seraphina, his voice cracking. “And I don’t know what to do.”

She held him and let him break down. Carefully, quietly; the recovering patient in the bed mustn’t know his DNP was crying into the shoulder of his old school friend a few feet away. But Seraphina had never been one to walk away when he was in pain, and Graves knew she didn’t intend to start now. How much must she be sacrificing to be here? She was always so busy; it took a lot of time and effort to run a nursing school, after all. But she was here for him, and right now, that just hurt even more.

“I could lose him, Sera,” he whispered helplessly into the crook of her neck.

She knew he wasn’t talking about his patient. “Not if you go get him back,” she said softly.

“I want to—but if these vultures hurt him,  _ fuck, _ I just—”

“I think,” she cut him off gently, “you need to let Credence decide if you’re worth the risk.” She drew back again and held him off, making him look at her. “I don’t know him well,” she told Graves seriously, “but from what you’ve told me, there’s been an awful lot of people in this kid’s life who have tried to take away his right to choose. I think he’s a lot more likely to forgive you, if you don’t become one of those people.”

“If he gets hurt it’ll kill me.”

Seraphina clapped her eyes on his and wouldn’t let go. “And this isn’t?” she said pointedly.

She was right, which wasn’t surprising, because even when they were kids she was almost always right. And even as Graves reached up to dry his tears he knew, he  _ knew _ beyond any shadow of a doubt, what he had to do.

~

Credence, as usual, was panicking.

He really hadn’t enjoyed his OB clinicals much. Some clinical groups had seen babies come into the world; his had not. Mostly he’d seen postpartum patients, and patients with some kind of complication who had to stay in the hospital until their baby was born. While the others in his clinical section had complained about it, he secretly thought it was a blessing. The descriptions of birth in their textbook had been terrifying enough; who’d want to  _ see _ it?

But now he sat in the backseat with the laboring Tina while Newt drove carefully through the raging storm. “Can’t see a blessed thing,” Newt complained. “By the time we get through this she’ll have pushed out the bloody child already.”

As if to agree, a crack of thunder sounded above them, at the precise moment that Tina wailed in pain and clutched Credence’s hands so tightly he almost screamed too. “Fuck, that hurts,” she groaned, her head dropping back against the seat.

“It’s okay,” he told her helplessly. “It’s going to be okay.” He didn’t know if it would be or not. He’d had his maternity nursing final two days ago and all he could think about were all the things that could go wrong in labor. Bleeding. Infection. Stillbirth. He shuddered a little and tried to suppress the wave of fear building inside him.  _ Help me, _ he cried out in his mind, watching through wild eyes as Tina tried to remember how to breathe.  _ I don’t know what to do. _

They made it to the hospital and pulled up under the awning at the entrance. Newt tossed a handful of bills to the valet without even checking and had come around the back to help Tina climb out when there was a horrible  _ crunch _ at the back of the car. Someone had run into them.

And Credence heard an unfamiliar shout of pain that turned his blood cold. He scrambled out of the car and ran around the back to see that Newt had dived out of the way of the incoming car…and had fallen over a very badly-placed concrete trash bin, and was now on the ground holding his arm. “I’m fine, just fine,” Newt insisted through gritted teeth. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The other driver had gotten out of the car and was shouting something at them. The valet was frozen, didn’t seem to know what to do, and Tina was struggling to get out the side door, her baby-swollen belly impeding her progress. Credence stood there for a second, disoriented by the magnitude of what was happening and the overwhelming noise of the storm.

But the sight of Tina’s raw distress as she reached out to Newt, still caught in her seatbelt but very much concerned for her injured partner, snapped something into place inside him. These were the people who had helped him at the lowest point of his life. No way was Credence going to fail them now.

He pointed at the stunned valet. “Go inside and tell them we need help out here. Two wheelchairs, at least, maybe one wheelchair and one stretcher, I don’t know. Tell them we have a high-risk primipara in active labor, and we need to get her inside  _ now.” _

Where had all that come from? He didn’t know. He’d struggled to remember the difference, just that morning, between  _ primipara _ and  _ primigravida. _ Now it was like Nurse Credence had grabbed Scared Credence by the shoulders, shoved him firmly into the corner, and said  _ you stay put, I’ll take it from here. _

He got Tina untangled from her seatbelt, got her to her feet and carefully eased her over to the sliding doors, where someone from security had already popped out with a wheelchair. With Tina settled, Credence knelt beside Newt. He’d smashed forearm-first into the concrete trashcan, apparently, because not only was his arm scraped to hell and back it also was at an odd angle. “Broken. Looks like a closed fracture, thank God, but if you think you can just splint that and keep going…yeah, no. We need to get you to the ED.”

Newt looked stricken, even as Credence helped him to his feet. “I can’t—Tina—”

“I’ll stay with her, you go get that taken care of,” Credence told him. Another security guard materialized with a chair, and Credence took a minute to help Newt settle in the chair, arm positioned across his lap just the way Credence remembered from his critical care class. “Go,” he urged when Newt still looked torn. “You’re no use to her with a broken arm. I won’t leave her side, I promise.”

“And you’ll keep your phone on? And you’ll tell me if anything comes up? She wouldn’t take the guided imagery classes, that sort of talk will just annoy her, so if the contractions get too intense you can ask for a TENS unit, I arranged that with the hospital ahead of time, and she said only wants an epidural if—”

“Newt, I’ve got this, I swear.  _ Go.” _

Newt was shepherded off to the emergency department, while Credence went with Tina to the maternity unit. He was made to wait in the hall while she was changed into a hospital gown, assessed by the nurses, and hooked up to a fetal monitor. He fired off texts to Queenie and Jacob letting them know what was going on and then, almost as an afterthought, he sent one to Percy as well. Because he had to admit if Nagini were in the hospital with a broken arm, he’d want to know about it.

Back in the hospital room, Tina grabbed his hand and wouldn’t let go. “I want Newt,” she whispered miserably after another three painful contractions.

Credence squeezed her hand right back. “I know. I’m sure he’ll be here soon. In the meantime, I’m right here with you.”

A feeling of strange, almost detached calm had replaced his panic. This wasn’t about him. Tina needed something solid to hold onto right now. It was his job, Credence thought, to be that for her. If that meant coaching her all the way through labor, that was just what he’d do.

Tina’s OB was in and out of the room, frequently checking her progress, while the nurse, a very patient man named Rob, looked after her the rest of the time. Credence had seen enough nurses in action to know Rob was a good one: he never pushed meds on Tina or demanded anything of her, knew how to assess her quickly and efficiently, and seemed to understand without being told just how delicate the situation was.

Credence had gone on some form of autopilot. It didn’t matter what he thought or felt anymore, only that Tina was okay. He brought her cup after cup of ice chips, sponged away the sweat that plastered her hair to her face, let her crush his hands. Her labor seemed to progress almost alarmingly quickly, and it felt like overall no time had passed at all when her OB came in, checked her progress, and announced that she was dilated to eight centimeters and going into transition.

Credence snatched a look at the clock on the wall and blanched. It was just after eight o’clock. They’d only been here for an hour and a half. What the  _ hell. _ This was supposed to take hours. As in, several, not as in  _ one and a half. _ Tina looked like she was thinking very much the same thing. “No,” she said flatly. “No, I can’t. Not like this.”

“Well, I’m afraid the baby is fixing to come out,” Sarah, the OB, told her patiently, “so I don’t think you really have much of a choice.”

Tina promptly started to cry. Rob tried to reach out to her, but she slapped him away. “I can’t do this without Newt! This is his goddamn baby, where is he?” she demanded angrily. She grabbed a handful of her sheets and muffled her scream of frustration and pain in the fabric, just as the contractions on the monitor spiked again. “Oh for  _ fuck’s sake,” _ she moaned into the sheets. “Just fucking MAKE IT STOP ALREADY!”

Credence knew that patients in transition wanted to give up, that they were tired and at this point labor seemed more painful than it was worth. He’d read about it, but it was completely different seeing it in front of him. “It’ll feel better if you push,” he offered, because he knew it was true, but Tina just flipped him off. Well. He’d read that could happen too; no hard feelings. A strange desire to laugh bubbled up inside him. This was  _ funny, _ or it would be if it were happening to someone else, he thought.

When Tina pulled her face out of the blankets it was chalk white, and she was swallowing hard and Credence knew what was about to happen. He grabbed the plastic basin off the bed table and held it for her as she gagged and threw up, more tears streaming down her face. “I can’t do this,” she gasped when she was done. Rob held out a washcloth to her, which she ignored; Credence took it and wiped her face. “I can’t,” she repeated. “I want Newt. I want to go  _ home.” _

She curled up in a ball and wouldn’t let anyone except Credence near her. She threw up two more times and had five very painful contractions before she let Sarah examine her again. “Oh my goodness. This is exciting,” Sarah said, her voice falsely bright and cheery. “You’re ten centimeters and ready to go.”

“Fuck off,” came Tina’s reply, once again muffled in her bedsheets.

Rob, who hadn’t said much up to this point, beckoned Credence over to the corner. “You’re not the father. Where is he?” he asked point-blank.

“In the ED getting his arm plastered,” Credence sighed, and briefly filled him in on the incident on the way in. He remembered now that he hadn’t bothered to do anything about the car. Well. That was a problem for future Credence, because he definitely couldn’t deal with it now.

Rob nodded slowly. “And you are…”

“Her…friend?” Credence offered tentatively. “Well. Roommate, more than friend, I guess.” He didn’t know how to put into words what he and Tina were. More than friends, but less than blood relatives. “I’m—I’m just a student. Nursing student. Living in her house—she and her sister are helping me—I don’t know.”

“Well…you’re what she’s got right now. Sarah’s not going to be able to talk her into pushing. But I think you can.”

Credence looked at Tina, curled up in a ball crying into her pillow, looking utterly miserable. “I think I can too,” he said, and went back over to her bedside.

“Teen, you really need to push,” Sarah coaxed her. “I know you’re feeling the pushing urges, I promise it’ll feel much better if you—”

Credence ignored the doctor. He pushed Tina on her back and knelt on the bed beside her. “Stop it,” he said firmly.

She looked up at him, surprised; through the first phase of labor, he’d been exceedingly gentle with her. But that was over. Tina had never beat around the bush with him. She’d been tough when she needed to be. He was going to do the same for her.

He locked his eyes on hers and wouldn’t let go. “Newt’s going out of his mind worrying about you right now. You know it, I know it. He’s going to be here soon and he is going to really,  _ really _ want to see that you’re okay. How do you think he’ll feel if he sees you in here all curled up and hurting your baby?”

“Tell her to push,” he heard Sarah urge him quietly. “She needs to start pushing  _ now _ or there’s going to be a problem.”

Tina heard. “I can’t,” she protested again, her eyes wide and wet and scared. “I can’t, not without—”

“Tina, listen to me.” Credence leaned over her, his hands on either side of her shoulders, his face hovering over hers. “You need to push. _You are_ _going to hurt your baby if you don’t._ I know you’re hurting and I know this is—this is really, _really_ scary. Okay? I get it. But you have got to push.”

“Newt’s going to miss his baby being born, this is the part he wanted to see the most, he can’t—”

“Newt is coming,” he cut her off, “and when he gets here he’s going to be very unhappy to find out that you put yourself and your kid at risk to wait for him. You know it. I know you do. Now let the doctor do her job, okay?”

He felt, rather than saw, Sarah and Rob moving into position, felt each of them grabbing a leg, giving Tina something to push against. “I can’t,” she protested again, but her resolve was wavering. 

Credence didn’t move. An earthquake could have hit. The hospital could’ve crumbled around him and he wouldn’t move. “Tina.  _ Push,” _ he ordered her. “Get that freaking baby  _ out of there, _ would you? Come on, I know you can do it, you  _ have to, _ just—push!”

She was crying again, her hands coming up to grip his wrists. He’d have bruises. He didn’t care. “She wants to come out,” she whispered. “I can feel—”

“Push her out,” he urged her. “Think about how happy Newt’ll be when he gets here and sees his little baby girl waiting for him—he was so excited to have a baby girl, remember that? The cake cutting thing?”

Tina laughed through her tears. “He hated that party.”

“Yeah, well, if you push out this baby, he’ll give you all the parties you want. He’s going to be so happy, you know that? He loves you so much, and he’s going to love this baby too, just—come on, Tina, you can do it—”

She was still crying, her head tossing helplessly on the bed, raw animalistic noises of pain spilling from her throat. But he saw her bear down and relief hit him like a punch to the gut. She was pushing. He’d done it. His own eyes welled with tears, relief and joy rushing through him as he shouted, “Yes! Just like that! You got this, Tina, you got this, just keep doing that and you’re gold!”

Tina let out another shaky laugh. “That feels good,” she admitted. “Pushing. Feels better.”

“I told you it would. C’mon, again, you’re doing so good,” he encouraged her. “Just like that—”

Credence forgot the OB and the nurse were in the room. His arms hurt from leaning over and holding himself up. His back was sore; he’d been on his feet all afternoon at the pharmacy and now he was bent over at an odd angle, and it hurt but he didn’t care. Tina needed him and he wasn’t going anywhere. She was crying and shouting and he was shouting right back, and then she seemed to forget to cry as she found her rhythm pushing. He could smell blood. His wrists hurt where Tina gripped him. He didn’t care. If Tina came out of this all right, nothing else mattered.

He wasn’t sure how long Tina had been pushing when he felt a new presence in the room and, once again, almost cried in relief. Tina was still crushing his wrists, and he sat up and tried to gently pull away. “No, don’t go,” she protested.

A warm, familiar voice broke in: “I think I’ve got it from here.”

Credence gladly moved aside as Newt perched carefully on the edge of Tina’s bed, his right arm swathed in a cast. He looked tired and was a little unsteady on his feet and Credence could only assume they’d given him pain meds. But he immediately caught Tina’s hand in his unbandaged one and barely winced when she squeezed him. Not a second too soon, either: no sooner had Credence taken his place at the foot of Tina’s bed, did a plaintive, mewling cry mingle with Tina’s shouts of pain.

Credence reached out automatically to help steady him as Newt clumsily snipped the umbilical cord left-handed. He watched, tears blurring his eyes, as the baby girl was cleaned and weighed and given eyedrops to prevent infections. She cried indignantly when she was given a vitamin K shot, then sighed contentedly when she was wrapped in a warmed blanket and handed back to her dad.

“Want to help me deliver the placenta?” Rob asked Credence companionably, in the same casual tone one might suggest they have a beer together.

Tina lay half on her side, shaking through the afterbirth pains, one hand reaching out for her baby. Newt was openly crying at the sight of his daughter, his hand caressing her damp hair, tears dripping onto her hospital blanket. “You made this,” he breathed, looking between Tina and the baby with glowing, teary eyes. “I love you. Oh God, I love you so much. You’re incredible.”

The last stage went quickly. They delivered the placenta, cleaned Tina up, and then a lactation specialist came to show her how to get the baby to nurse. Credence stood there watching, rooted to the spot, as the tiny mouth found Tina’s nipple and drank eagerly.

It was incredible. It was like flying. Credence turned to the worn-out delivery nurse and tried to put it into words— “I didn’t know, I mean, I read about it but I didn’t  _ know, _ you could—she made that baby, and now she’s feeding that baby,  _ with her body.” _

Rob smiled and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I know. Seeing it is nothing like being in class, is it?”

Tina looked like she’d just been through fifteen rounds with Ronda Rousey. But her joy at meeting her baby was like a beacon, so bright and warm that Credence felt like he finally understood how the three wise men had known where to find Mary and the baby Jesus. He wouldn’t be surprised if he went outside and found a group of people waiting, following the cloud of love and excitement that he was so sure was emanating from the room.

“Oh, baby, baby,” Newt cooed. He reached over and stroked his baby girl’s tiny palm, his eyes widening in delight when she gripped his finger so tightly his fingernail turned white. “Oh, she’s a strong one, yes she is…I’m your dad, little one. And I’ve just been waiting to meet you…” He looked up to Tina. “Do you think she knows?” he asked, sounding choked. “Do you think she knows how much we wanted her?”

Tina cradled her little girl more securely in her arms, one hand gently cupped under the tiny head. “We’ll have to make sure to tell her, every day.”

Credence slipped out of the room to give them some time with their baby. Outside, he leaned against the wall and sighed in mingled longing and relief, suddenly very aware of how sore he was.

“You did good in there.”

He jumped nearly ten feet and turned to see Sarah, Tina’s OB. “I did? I mean, I just…I know Tina,” he said awkwardly. He knew he’d done right—the baby was safe, wasn’t she, and so was Tina?—but he felt the usual need to justify deserving a compliment.

Sarah nodded solemnly. “You have good instincts. Did you say you were a nursing student?”

“Yeah. Ilvermorny.”

She gave him a warm smile. “Well, if you ever wanted to work in OB, I’d certainly welcome you here and I’m sure Rob would say the same.”

She went back into Tina’s room. Credence stood there, feeling a little dazed. He’d never thought of working in maternity. He’d always felt such a pull towards end-of-life care, thinking that it was incredibly intimate and special to be with a person at that point, to help them face the last moments of their life comfortably.

No one had ever told him that to witness the first moments of someone’s life, could be just as incredible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medical stuff TW spoilers: Whooo boy here we go. In order of appearance:  
> \--Graves' patient has a blood clot near his heart that is giving him severe chest pain and requires surgery. The surgery itself is not graphic, no blood is seen, but the leadup is very emotionally tense. It takes them a few minutes to figure out what's wrong, and the patient is very distressed (at one point he tearfully asks if he's going to die). He does ultimately survive the surgery and it's implied that he's going to fully recover.  
> \--Newt breaks his arm during a freak car accident right outside the hospital. His arm is scraped up and bloody, but it's a closed fracture with a clean break. The treatment/casting is done offscreen.  
> \--Tina goes through labor. Clean labor, no complications, but the messiness of it is not shied away from at all (she throws up, screams in pain, swears at her doctors, etc.) At one point Credence mentions he smells blood, but it's not seen.  
> \--Peripheral mentions of IVs, only in passing and none are inserted, but there are mentions of IV drugs and fluids being used so: IVs are included. Again, none of it is explicitly graphic (no fountains of blood, etc.) but it's there.
> 
> Car accident TW spoilers: A car skids into Newt's parked car outside the hospital. He jumps out of the way and hurts himself falling over a concrete pillar. Not graphic, no one is hurt aside from Newt, it has no effect on Tina and her baby.
> 
> Labor/childbirth TW spoilers: Tina has her baby, and while it's a "clean" birth with no complications, it's still a tense scene. During the notoriously difficult "transition" phase Tina decides she won't have the baby until Newt comes back from the ED and refuses to push until he gets there, and Credence has to convince her to keep going. She throws up and experiences intense pain during contractions.
> 
> Victim-blaming/bullying TW spoilers: It's not dwelled on here, but it is mentioned that Graves is still dealing with the fallout of his decision to come forward about Grindelwald. Abernathy and the others are mentioned to be blatantly taking petty revenge measures such as targeting him in the lunchroom and telling new employees he'll get them fired if they misstep. He ends up having to hide in the office of his lone remaining high-ranking ally at Macusa as a result.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! XD
> 
> I graduated (!!!!!) and have been busily studying for the NCLEX, so FUN XD And we're in the homestretch of this fic too, which is nice ^_^
> 
> There really aren't any major TWs in this chapter. There are a few brief allusions to the fact that Graves' coworkers are still being assholes because he turned in Grindelwald, but there's no real, hard, in-depth exploration of victim-blaming or sexual assault recovery.
> 
> This chapter DOES, however, start off with two sex scenes, so...enjoy/fair warning, depending on your tastes ;)

Credence wasn’t done flying yet.

He was exhausted, yes. Jacob, Queenie, and Chief Johnson had shown up during a lull in the storm and helped him deal with Newt’s car, and the fallout of all that, before they all went up to see the baby again. Credence nearly burst into happy tears when he saw all of them together, and ended up slipping out of the room when they were absorbed in the baby. He was so tired and every muscle in his arms and upper back hurt. But he still felt buoyant. It had been such a weird day but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He practically floated through the building until he found himself back in the concourse, his eyes automatically falling on the coffee kiosk where Percy had bought him a drink and changed his life forever…and, of course, because this was just how life worked, Percy was there right now. After six weeks of not seeing each other, barely _speaking_ to each other, there was Percy, standing outside the closed hospital gift shop, looking utterly lost.

Credence took exactly three seconds to wonder why (Percy’s shift was supposed to have ended hours ago!) and then decided he didn’t care. Percy had looked up and seen him and Credence didn’t care about the rules anymore, didn’t care if all of Macusa saw them. Percy, he decided, was going to just have to trust that Credence could handle a couple of dickheads like Abernathy and his buddies, and more importantly, that he was willing to accept the risk.

He stalked over to Percy with the confidence of a predator, and felt a little thrill when he saw Percy was coming towards him as well. They got closer. Percy’s eyes went dark, he looked _determined_ and it set Credence’s very nerves on fire.

They met in the center of the concourse. Not too many people were here this time of day, but enough were around that, when Credence caught Percy in an iron-tight grip and laid a bruising kiss on him, he heard a few sighs, coughs, disapproving little grunts. _Let them watch. I’ve gone without him long enough._

Oh, but it was fucking _good._ Like feeling the sun after the longest winter of his life. Percy yielded to the kiss so easily, his arms coming up to loosely wind around Credence’s neck as they melted into each other. When Credence probed at his lips Percy opened up without a single second’s hesitation and they stood there, locked together, tongues fervently exploring each other’s mouths, as if they were the only two in the room. Making up for lost time. Credence pulled away just once to whisper a ragged _I love you,_ and then it was right back to devouring the man he’d been starved of for the last month and a half.

After a minute…or an hour…or maybe half a century, who the hell knew…it finally ended, just for a minute, just long enough for Percy to croak, “I missed you.”

“Let’s go outside,” Credence decided, and pulled Percy to the door without waiting for a reply. 

It was still pouring outside, and now dark on top of that. At the exact same moment that lightning split the sky, Credence all but shoved the poor valet out of his way as he dragged Percy down the walk and to an alcove near the parking lot. It wasn’t covered. He didn’t care.

Without a word he pushed Percy up against the brick wall and smothered him with another kiss. They were already getting soaked, the water pounding down on them in sheets, and Percy gasped in surprise when lightning split the sky above their heads. Credence pulled back, let Percy see his face. Reached up and gently cupped a hand around his cheek. Percy’s eyes immediately fell closed, head tilted submissively back.

And something about that, well. Credence damn near turned feral. He leaned back in and latched onto the skin just over Percy’s collar, thrusting a knee between his legs at the same time and shivering in hot satisfaction when it drew a soft keen from his fiance, a sound quickly lost to the thunder overhead. The wind picked up, as if nature itself was trying to egg them on. 

Credence plunged his hands underneath Percy’s soaked shirt and moaned at the feeling of hot, wet skin underneath. “I want you,” he growled into Percy’s neck. “I want you, God, I want to fuck you right here. Right now.”

Percy let out a noise verging on a sob. “Please,” he breathed. “Please, _fuck,_ I missed you—”

Credence bit down, hard, on the mark he had just sucked into Percy’s neck and was rewarded with a shout. He gripped Percy’s hips hard enough to bruise and ground into him, his eyes fluttering shut at the rush of hot, staggering pleasure that burst inside him. “Need you,” he moaned, and thrust again. He pressed his thigh up, encouraging Percy to grind down on him, and a shiver rushed through him when Percy did just that, thrusting against him in a pattern too desperate to find a rhythm.

Credence could feel how hard Percy was, and it made his own cock twitch and pulse, already on the verge of spilling. They should wait, he realized somewhere in the back of his feral mind, they should go home and talk, they shouldn’t do this here. A car door slammed in the distance. The wind picked up again. The raindrops were huge, hitting the ground like bullets, and Credence wasn’t entirely sure it was impossible for them to be struck by lightning where they were…

But no. He’d waited too long for this.

He grabbed Percy’s leg and wound it around his waist, grinding hard against him and watching, satisfied, as Percy’s eyes rolled back. He kept thrusting, pushing, until he found a rhythm that seemed to work. It was hardly ideal—it hurt a little, actually; there was too much friction and it was hard work. Credence was already tired and sore and he had no doubt Percy was too. But they didn’t stop. “Gonna make you come right here,” Credence hissed in Percy’s ear, and when that got a good reaction he bit down Percy’s neck again, hard enough to bruise. He’d never wanted to hurt Percy before—still didn’t—but he wanted Percy marked. Wanted anyone who saw to know that he was taken, that they had _not_ broken up.

Percy was nearly crying now, hands scrabbling for purchase first on the brick behind him and then around Credence’s neck, grabbing handfuls of his shirt. He dropped his head against Credence’s shoulder, crying out in agonized pleasure, and Credence pushed against him harder, unable to hold back increasingly pitchy moans as he felt his orgasm looming, inevitable and messy and incredible.

Two more quick, hard thrusts and that was it, Percy tensed and then went deliciously slack in his arms. The look of dazed pleasure on his lover’s face was enough to bring Credence down with him. He came hard, harder than he could remember ever coming before, and for a long moment there was nothing—no rain, no thunder, no cars. Just Percy, warm and deliciously wet and _real_ in his arms, and that was…that was enough. For now.

~

They ended up going back to Credence’s place. There was no discussion, no pretense, no _I’ll just stay for a minute_ or _I’ll drop you off a block away._ They got in Graves’ car and drove straight to the Goldstein house, and went down to the back door, wading through the sloppy mess that had become the grass thanks to the storm, and went inside Credence’s tiny basement apartment like they both belonged there.

Graves let Credence strip him out of his soaked clothes. Stood there, naked and shivering, in the middle of the heavily air-conditioned basement as Credence put both of their clothes in the dryer. “We won’t both fit,” he protested as Credence led him to the tiny bathroom with an even tinier shower.

Sure enough, there wasn’t room to swing a hamster in the little shower once they both squeezed inside. But Credence was determined and they somehow managed to close the door, and Graves had to admit it did feel good to be close to Credence under the hot water, to feel all that soft, slippery skin against his. “I missed you so much,” he murmured as Credence pressed his mouth to the crook of Graves’ neck. “God, I missed you.”

Credence didn’t reply, just continued to nuzzle and mouth at his neck, hands sliding over every bit of Graves that he could reach. It felt so good to be touched again that Graves couldn’t stop a few pathetic tears of gratitude from slipping out. Credence, of course, noticed (he _always_ fucking noticed) and kissed those tears away under the hot spray of the shower. _We’re going to be okay,_ Graves heard in the touches, the kisses. _We had a rough patch but it’s okay, I still love you._

A minute later he found himself turned around, belly pressed to the cool tile wall of the shower. “What—” And then a handful of slippery, cool shower gel was spread against his thighs and he knew. Graves let his head fall against the wall of the shower, a soft laugh escaping. “Oh. Yeah. That’s what you want…okay.”

Credence nuzzled into the crook of his neck and stroked a hand up and down his side as if to calm him, soft and reassuring. “I won’t if you don’t want to,” he said, his voice so low it could barely be heard over the shower. “I, uh. I know how you feel about—you know. From behind.”

He was clearly still upset, because this was the first time he’d spoken since they got in the car, but he still remembered—he still wanted to make it good, make sure Graves got something out of it, and God, that just broke him. “Sweetheart, you can do anything you want to me. You can’t—trust me, you can’t hurt me, it’s not possible.”

Credence hummed softly into his neck and Graves felt what was left of his heart melt into molten gold. Credence began to thrust, slow and careful, between his thighs and Graves pressed his face into the cool tile of the shower, tiny gasps slipping out as the motion of Credence’s thrusts drove Graves’ hips forward, just enough to make his cock brush against the wall with every push. It was a lovely, maddening tease, enough to make him achingly hard but not nearly enough to make him come. Sweet torture. God, he’d _missed_ this.

He’d never liked being fucked from behind, even before Grindelwald. He didn’t like not being able to see his partner’s face; it left him feeling used afterwards. But there was no denying the intimacy of what they were doing right now. Credence had him held tight, one arm an iron bar around his waist and the other pushing off the shower wall beside his head. He could feel Credence’s breath on his neck, soft lips brushing his skin, could hear Credence’s desperate little noises of pleasure as he took what he wanted.

It was intense. Incredible. Graves wanted to beg Credence’s forgiveness and beg to be touched and he wasn’t sure which would win out first, and he stayed there, helpless to do anything but take it, his forehead pressed to the cool tile as he internally warred between submitting to pleasure and giving into the increasing desire to cry.

Pleasure won out. He let his head tip back against Credence’s shoulder and released a single, breathy _please,_ and as if he’d been waiting for a signal, Credence immediately let go of Graves’ waist and circled a slick hand around his now-throbbing cock. “Come for me,” he whispered after an impossibly short time, and with a broken cry that was nearly lost to the sound of running water, Graves did just that, trembling through his climax as Credence’s cum splattered down his thighs.

Afterwards Credence cleaned them both up, then pulled Graves out of the shower and dried him off, messing up his hair with the towel. “You need a haircut.”

“I know.” Graves let himself be led out to Credence’s bed, stopping as his heart flipped at the sight of the familiar white curtains. “Um. Listen, we really don’t have to—”

“I’m still angry,” Credence cut him off, turning around so they were face-to-face. “I’m angry that you made the decisions you did, and that you pushed me away when you _clearly fucking needed me,_ and that you thought so little of me that you honestly believed I couldn’t handle a couple of morons with eggs and water guns. And I’m absolutely _furious_ that you got drunk like a total _jerk_ and called me, then wouldn’t let me come over and look after you. I’m still hurt, and I’m not letting you off the hook for any of it.”

Graves stood quietly against the barrage, his heart hammering against his ribcage. “That’s…fair,” he said when Credence stopped for a breath.

“But I missed you,” Credence went on as if Graves hadn’t spoken, “and I love you, and I…” He swallowed hard and locked his eyes firmly on Graves’. “I want to try this again,” he said, “but there have to be new rules. I’m not pretending to be broken up anymore, and I’m not letting the petty shit you’re afraid of dictate _our_ relationship. Can you get on board with that? Because if not, you might as well take that ring with you when you go.”

Graves nodded slowly, an icy bolt of fear zapping through his veins. He heard what Credence was saying loud and clear: _Do this to me again, and we break up for real. No pretending._

Credence seemed to take the nod as gospel, because the next thing Graves knew he was being pulled into the familiar, soft white bed and tossed on his back. “I’m sorry,” Credence murmured between slow, tender kisses. “I love you. I’m sorry I was—when we were outside I—well. I should’ve been more gentle.”

“No, it’s okay. I liked— _ooh._ I liked it.” He did, really. It was rougher than he’d usually ask for, sure, but he knew it was longing and love, not desire for revenge, that had driven Credence to all but fuck him in the parking lot of the hospital.

“Still…” Credence kissed Graves’ bruised hip. “I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

“I hurt you first.”

“We’re not keeping score here, Percy.”

“Okay. No. You’re right.” Graves reached down and stroked the sleek, damp hair as Credence littered sweet little angel-kisses over his belly. “Do whatever you want, sweetheart, whatever makes you feel good. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you’re not.”

What Credence wanted, apparently, was to drive Graves out of his mind, because he proceeded to spend a solid hour teasing and touching before he finally, when Graves was so worked up he had to resort to biting the pillow to keep from screaming, ended the torment with a slow, torturous blowjob that ended in a climax so intense it made him white out.

“Are we even now?” he panted when his vision cleared and he remembered how to breathe.

Credence just laughed as he lay back and pulled Graves in close for a cuddle. “Not even close.”

~

Once he had Percy back, Credence felt his life begin to settle into a comfortable rhythm once again. He kept up with his clinicals and work, talked a disappointed Queenie out of the engagement party (“we’ve literally been engaged for months now, it’ll just be weird”), helped Newt and Tina settle little baby Storm into her nursery.

Percy just about died when he heard the name. _“Storm?_ You named…your actual child…not, like a pet or anything but your _actual child…_ Storm?”

Newt just shrugged. “It seemed appropriate,” he said.

“That, and he rejected all of my names for not being gender-neutral enough,” Tina said with a roll of her eyes. “Someone please tell me how _Peyton_ isn’t neutral, seriously, I’ll wait.”

“You just wanted to name our daughter after a footballer, don’t deny it,” Newt scolded her.

“Damn right I did. The minute she can stand I’m going to teach her how to throw a football,” Tina said with a grin. “And I’m going to teach her how to play baseball, too.”

“Now you’re just twisting the knife,” Newt teased her, trying (and failing) to work up a convincing pout. “I’m going to have to enroll her in science camp every summer to undo the damage.”

Baby Storm seemed to not care a whit that her parents were arguing about her future, nor did she care in the slightest about the tumultuous story behind her name. She didn’t care about much of anything, really, other than drinking milk and getting hugs. And who those hugs came from was negotiable. She was just as happy to be cuddled by Queenie, Jacob, Percy or Credence as she was to be with her parents, and when left in her bassinet too long she would let them all know (loudly and pointedly) that she was none too pleased with the situation.

Credence didn’t mind a bit when Tina would come to him and urgently request he just “hold her, just a minute, _please,_ I just need like twenty minutes to nap and then I’ll be good the rest of the afternoon.” He was in the middle of community health nursing and pediatrics classes, both of which involved knowing about babies, and it was a chance to put his maternity nursing knowledge into practice. 

Summer went on, much more happily now that Credence had his fiance back. On the 4th of July Percy took him to a baseball game that ended in a beautiful fireworks display. On the rare days he didn’t have clinical, Credence went home to Percy’s family home and they’d go swimming in the backyard pool with Morgan and Seamus and the kids, and then eat massive amounts of fresh-grilled food and lie out in the grass looking at the stars together after everyone else had gone to bed.

(And if one night they very sneakily made love under a beach towel, well, no one was there to see it.)

Percy still was skittish about being public with their relationship, as the nursing staff at Macusa were still unfortunately being assholes about the whole thing with Grindelwald. But Credence held firm when he hinted they might need to go underground again. He compromised by agreeing to keep their distance at Macusa, but refused to stop wearing his engagement ring or hide his photos on Facebook or tell people he was single. Never again, Credence swore, would he let fear define their relationship.

“You’re doing well, so _very_ well,” Ms. Trelawney praised him in one of their sessions. “You’ve gone through so much and you’ve held up better than you ever expected yourself to. I think that merits some pride.”

Credence had to fight back a smile; it felt nice to be told he was doing something right. But he couldn’t help but tell her, “Ma used to say pride was a deadly sin.”

“Well, that’s a load of nonsense, isn’t it?” she said matter-of-factly. “You deserve to feel good about your accomplishments. I’d like you to focus on that during your self-guided sessions this week.”

Over the last few months, Credence had progressed from listening to guided meditation and self-hypnosis recordings to what Trelawney playfully referred to as “winging it”—doing the same thing, essentially, but without an external voice on a tape guiding him. _Reprogramming your inner voice to eliminate negative self-talk and bad energy,_ was the way Trelawney described it; _an hour where I’m allowed to blow off studying and focus on making myself feel relaxed and happy without interruption_ was how Credence thought of it. Either way, it felt good and helped ultimately stave off the anxiety attacks and nightmares and bouts of intense self-loathing that he now couldn’t believe he’d just… _lived with_ before.

“I need to spend extra time studying this week…I have the pediatric HESI on Saturday…” He winced a little as he realized, “And I had to take two extra shifts at the pharmacy. I’m still covering for the time I took off on 4th of July.”

“You still need to make time to take care of yourself,” she reminded him, much more firmly than her usual airy-fairy tone. “You’ve come so far, dear. Let’s try to keep it going. If you only have time for two hours this week instead of three, that’s fine. But don’t neglect yourself. That’ll just get you to burn out faster.”

Credence liked the way she said that, even if he knew it’d be hard to put it into action, and relayed it to Percy later over dinner at Reuben’s. “She said it’s _especially_ important when I’m stressed or busy,” he said pointedly, and Percy playfully rolled his eyes.

“All right, all right. I can take a hint, love.” He squeezed Credence’s shoulders and resumed eating his food left-handed. Credence had to smile: after all this time, Percy still didn’t want to let go of him even while trying to eat.

Seamus chose that moment to swing by their spot at the counter. “Hey, did you tell him yet, Graves?”

Percy sighed exaggeratedly and gave him a look. “No, and stay here, I have more news and I know if I tell you it’ll be through the whole family by lunchtime tomorrow.” He turned back to Credence and said, “My mum wanted me to tell you that the second-to-last week of September, we’re going to Ireland to see some family and she will be _very sad_ —her exact words—if I can’t, again exact words, _sweet-talk_ you into coming along.”

“Well, in that case, how can I say no,” Credence said with a laugh, and then Percy’s words hit him and he nearly fell off his chair. “Wait—you want me to come with you to Ireland? Really?”

“Well, what’s the point of having a fiance if you can’t show him off?” Percy teased, giving him a little squeeze around the waist. “Trust me, they’ll love you just as much as the stateside part of the family did, I promise.”

“I’ve never left the country before,” Credence admitted nervously. “I mean, Tina made sure I got a passport, but I don’t know how to…well, anything, really.”

“Oh, love. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of the arrangements, and honestly, most of it will be a breeze anyway—we’re mostly going on the same flight and my aunt runs an inn so we don’t have to worry about booking a hotel,” Percy assured him. “But if you really don’t want to come, you don’t have to, of course.”

“No, I’ll come with you.” Credence happened to lay eyes on the fryer behind the counter, and good thing he did, too, because— “Seamus, is that _supposed_ to be smoking?”

While Seamus ran off to prevent an explosion, Percy leaned his head against Credence’s shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart. It means a lot to me that you’d come along. I promise, it won’t be scary. It’ll be fun. I can’t wait to take you to my favorite restaurant there…it’s this kebab place but they make the _best_ burgers and you’d love their loaded fries. They make taco fries with beef, peppers, and cheese and it’s…ugh. Put away three plates last time I was there.”

“Oh, lord. Percy, you’re a _cardiologist.”_

“I’m a cardiac DNP,” Percy corrected him with a playful roll of his eyes, “and you only live once, right? Anyway, their food is so good. Not as good as _this,”_ he indicated his half-eaten lamplighter sandwich, “but pretty good. When I was in college I’d ask for a trip home as my birthday present every year, just so I could get their food.”

“Ooh, when’s your birthday? Is it going to happen while we’re in Ireland? If it’s not you can give me the recipe for those taco fries, I’ll make them at home,” Credence offered. Percy went quiet, and Credence felt the mood shift in an instant, his heart dropping somewhere into his stomach. “It happened while we weren’t seeing each other,” he guessed.

Percy cringed. “Uh. It’s…May thirty-first.”

“Oh. That’s the night you…”

Credence trailed off, but with a heavy sigh Percy finished, “Got drunk like a tool and called you in the middle of the night, then yelled at you to stay put when you reasonably got concerned and wanted to come check on me? Yeah. That was the night.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m so sorry, love. That was my fault.”

Credence sighed and pulled away so that Percy’s arm wasn’t around him anymore. Percy looked absolutely crushed, until Credence swung around on his stool so they were facing each other, grabbed both of Percy’s hands, and said firmly, “It’s no one’s fault. You were afraid and you did what you thought you had to do, and then you were upset and you made a mistake. If anything _I_ suck because we’re engaged and I didn’t even know when your damn birthday was.”

Percy actually smiled at that. “Well, in your defense I didn’t tell you.” He reached up and played with a stray lock of Credence’s hair. “You know, I really don’t deserve you. I fucked up. God, I fucked up. I can’t believe you…”

It was his turn to trail off. Credence put a hand on his knee and gave an encouraging squeeze. “Percy, _it’s okay._ I mean—no, it’s not okay that you held me at arm’s length for a month and a half when you really needed me. But just asking to keep our relationship quiet while you figured things out at work wasn’t that unreasonable.” He paused and then asked, very tentatively, the question that was a regular fixture of their conversations: “How’s it going at work? God, I wish I could be there with you…but Lilah’s watching out for you, right?”

“Not really…I mean, she texts me like eight thousand times a day, but we still don’t eat together anymore. Which I miss a lot because—” Suddenly he smiled. Seamus finished making sure the deep fryer wasn’t about to blow up and came back over just as Percy said, “Albus came through for me. I’ve got a new job.”

“Well, shit! You could’ve led with that!” Seamus boomed, reaching over the counter to thwack Percy on the shoulder so hard he nearly toppled off his bar stool and had to grab the counter to steady himself. “Gonna let me take you out for a drink, then? To celebrate?”

“Maybe later.” Percy let go of the counter and reached for Credence’s hand again. “Anyway, I’m going to be the staff DNP at a nursing home. It’ll be a little less than I made at the hospital, but I’m willing to take the cut…it’ll be fewer hours, for one thing, but for another…well…”

“It’ll be friendly,” Credence finished, and Percy nodded. Credence squeezed his hand. “Good. That’s good. Listen, I have a lot to do this week. But…Saturday, after the HESI, come over, okay? And stay the night? Please?”

“Anything for you—oh, you stop that,” Percy scolded Seamus, who pretended to cough _whipped!_ into his hand. “You know damn well you’ll do whatever my sister asks, don’t deny it.”

“Ah, of course. You know how it is. Any true Irishman is at the mercy of the petticoats. Or the britches, as one might prefer, in this case—okay!” Seamus dodged the french fry that Percy threw at him. “All right, all right, point taken.”

“I’m not sure what I like better, the implication that I wear petticoats if I’m in the mood for it, or the thought of what Morgan would say if she heard this conversation,” Credence said dryly, and then blushed something awful when Seamus burst out laughing and pointed at Percy, who looked…a little dazed.

“I think someone likes the idea of you in petticoats,” Seamus quipped.

Percy squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re eloping,” he muttered. Credence just laughed and squeezed his hand again.

~

Credence spent most of the week completely cut off, caught up in studying for the pediatrics HESI and clinicals and working at the pharmacy. “He’s wearing himself out again,” Graves complained to both Lilah and Tina, to no avail. “Can’t you make him ease up?”

Tina gave him a sympathetic look and shook her head, but Lilah straight-up laughed and said, “You know what, Graves, why don’t _you_ try making Credence do something he doesn’t want to do, then come back and tell me how that works out for you.”

She had a point, so Graves worried in silence for a few days, only to breathe a sigh of relief when Credence texted him Saturday afternoon to tell him he’d gotten a respectable 920 on the peds exam. He got to Credence’s apartment Saturday evening to find it decorated with a pile of teeny electric candles, a hot meal on the table, and a very, very happy fiance sitting on the loveseat tapping his foot, a look of mingled delight and nervous anticipation on his face.

“So I take it we have news besides the HESI going well,” Graves said as he settled beside Credence on the sofa. “What’s happening, so?”

Credence took a deep breath and said, “Well. A lot, actually. Um. I have three surprises for you.” He withdrew a folded letter from his pocket. “So initially this was just supposed to be your birthday and new job, but…well. Turns out we have even more to celebrate…”

He passed the letter over to Graves, who unfolded it and made a little _unh!_ noise when he saw the letterhead: Johns Hopkins University. He barely made it past _Dear Credence Barebone, we are excited to inform you…_ before he realized just what was happening. Scanning the letter, his eyes fell on the words _RN to DNP_ _program_ and he very nearly passed out. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed. “You got early admission…oh, _Credence…”_

Credence let out a little squeak as Graves caught him up in a crushing hug. “I don’t know if I’m going,” he said into Graves’ shirt. “I just—I can’t believe it—I got into Ilvermorny’s program too, so I can stay close to home if I need to, but I’m just—I’m so— _Johns Hopkins…_ it’s almost too good to be true.”

“Oh, love…of course you’ll go!” Graves held him off at arm’s length and looked earnestly into his eyes. “Do you want to go? Yes, I know it’s in Baltimore, I know it’s expensive, I know it would mean a bit of inconvenience,” he cut in before Credence could talk himself out of it. “But I can work with that. All of it. Because this is a _fantastic_ opportunity for you, and I want to help—”

“But I couldn’t let you do that,” Credence protested.

“Why not?” Graves took Credence’s left hand in both of his and traced the engagement ring with his thumb. “Sweetheart, this means something to me, all right? You’re not ‘mooching,’ or whatever negative thing is in your head, if you let _your husband_ help you with grad school.” When Credence still didn’t look convinced, Graves cupped the younger man’s chin in his hand and made him look up. “Listen to me…this is no different than when you wanted to come over while we were pretending to be broken up, you understand? When I called and you wanted to come look after me and I wouldn’t let you, you were upset, yeah? Well—this is the same thing. I love you and I want to help. And if you’re worried about it that much, I’ll let you pay it back—or, as I’d prefer, pay it forward—when you’re a DNP and you’re raking it in. And trust me love, you get that DNP, you’ll never want for anything again.”

Credence bit his lip and looked at Percy through his lashes. “I haven’t decided if I want to go yet,” he repeated. “But if I do, you’ll really come with me?”

“Oh, love, of _course,”_ Percy assured him. “When would you start?”

“Not until next fall…I want to take the NCLEX first and work a little bit, maybe in a nursing home before I start in a real hospital, but…” Credence suddenly couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “But it would also give us time to…to get married first,” he said in a rush. 

And then he stood up, a little abruptly, and led Graves over to the table, which Graves now saw was groaning under the weight of chicken shawarma, falafel kebabs, and—he very nearly burst out laughing in surprise—french fries smothered in beef, cheese, and vegetables. “I see you talked to either Mum or Morgan and found out all my weaknesses on the Abra-kebabra menu.”

“Surprise number two,” Credence replied with a smile, nudging him into a chair.

Graves had no sooner sat down than he saw a tiny wrapped present sitting on his plate. “And this is…?” he prompted, lifting the box.

Credence lowered his eyes demurely, and Graves nearly melted on the spot. “Surprise number three,” Credence said primly, “and you can just open it now, if you want. I know it’s not as…high quality, I guess, as the one you picked out, but. Well. We can replace it later if you don’t like it.”

Graves peeled back the paper and opened the lid of the little white box, and tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the rose-gold-and-tungsten ring inside. It was pretty and unique and absolutely perfect. “You didn’t have to,” he murmured automatically, but his heart felt as if it had turned to melted chocolate in his chest, soft and gooey and molten. “I love it, sweetheart, I do…but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I wanted to get you something to make up for the birthday I missed and then I thought…” Credence shrugged one shoulder, as if it hardly mattered. “I thought you should have a ring too. You know. Let everyone know you’re taken,” he said with a playful grin. He plucked the ring box out of Graves’ hands and put the ring on for him. It slid onto his finger and sat jauntily at the base as if it had been made just for him.

And after they ate, Graves took his time showing Credence just how much he liked the ring, and the surprise dinner, and everything else about his groom-to-be. “I love you,” he breathed against his sweetheart’s neck as he rode Credence like his life depended on it, hardly caring a bit about the tears that mingled with the sweat on his face as he chased his pleasure and let his heart fill to bursting. “I love you, I love you, _I love you,_ and I’m never letting you go again.”

“I love you too,” Credence gasped in reply, and for that one, shining moment nothing in the world could hurt either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it wasn't as long this time y'all...I promise I'll make it up next time ;)
> 
> Oh, also...[THIS](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0750/2041/products/CCJ_01_08_17_02_grande.jpg?v=1543960847) is Graves' engagement ring. FYI. ;)


End file.
